She felt for him—

a sudden empathy that startled and disturbed her. Laura didn’t want to feel for anyone but her daughter. She had far too much responsibility in her life right now to leave room for a handsome firefighter.

Luckily he didn’t seem to expect an answer from her. Ryan touched her arm lightly, and she felt the warmth of that touch right through the fabric of her sweater.

“Hey, I’ll work out my problems. But thanks for listening. I’ll be glad to return the favor anytime.”

She managed to smile, to nod. Ryan meant well, but she didn’t have any intention of sharing her inner thoughts with anyone, least of all him. He’d come too far into her life already.

MARTA PERRY

has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book.

Marta loves hearing from readers and she’ll write back with a signed bookplate or bookmark. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

Her Only Hero
Marta Perry

Help carry one another’s burdens, and in this way you will obey the law of Christ.

—Galatians 6:2

This story is dedicated to Gary and Arddy Johnson,

with much love. And, as always, to Brian.

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

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

“I suppose you’d better come in.”

Laura McKay had a feeling that sounded ungracious. She tried to make amends by forcing a smile as she stood back to let the uniformed firefighter step into the foyer of her brick townhouse.

The man glanced through the archway to the bare, dusty area she hoped would eventually be a ground-floor shop. Searching for something to find unsafe, no doubt.

“Sorry to bother you.” He consulted the clipboard he carried. “Ms. McKay, is it? I’m Ryan Flanagan, from the Suffolk Fire Department.”

He didn’t recognize her, then. Funny, because she’d known Ryan Flanagan from the moment she opened the door.

Ryan hadn’t changed all that much from the tall, handsome football hero he’d been in high school. One of the popular Flanagan brothers, with those deep-blue eyes and that cleft in his strong chin, he’d had every girl at Suffolk High School longing to be the recipient of one of his teasing smiles, including her.

Well, that was a long time ago. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t remembered the shy underclassman who had admired him from afar.

“I don’t understand why you’re here.” She glanced up the stairs of the three-story townhouse, longing to get back to the work she’d set herself for the day. “I have all the necessary permits for the renovation, and the building has already been inspected by your department.”

He shrugged, smiling. The smile was, unfortunately, just as devastating as it had been in high school.

“Just one of those necessary things, I’m afraid. Someone called the department with a complaint, so we’re obligated to check it out.”

“Someone complained about me?” That jerked her mind away from the wallpaper she’d been removing.

“Who?”

“Anonymous.” He shrugged again. “It happens. If you’ll just let me take a walk-through and check things out, I’ll get out of your hair.”

He glanced at her head as he spoke, and she put up her hand to discover that the bandanna she’d tied on to protect her wiry mane was thoroughly covered with plaster dust. She swatted at it uselessly and then pulled the thing off. What difference did it make what she looked like, anyway? The important thing was to get back to work.

Her nerves tightened in a way that had become too familiar lately. Time was running out, and she had to finish the job. If she didn’t—

Well, if didn’t bear thinking about.

So the sooner she got rid of Ryan Flanagan the better. She waved a hand toward the staircase. “We might as well begin at the top. That’s where I’ve been working today.”

She started up the wooden stairwell, not touching the gritty railing. The wood was mahogany under all that dirt, and eventually it would shine. The whole place would.

His footsteps sounded behind her. “You’re actually rehabbing this place yourself?”

“What’s wrong with that?” She sounded tart, she supposed, but she’d heard that incredulous tone from enough people since she’d started this job.

“Nothing, I guess. But this place has been deteriorating for so long I figured eventually it would be torn down. Or fall down.”

Laura touched the intricate molding she’d uncovered when she’d renovated the second-floor landing. She loved the smooth, aged feel of it under her fingers, loved knowing she’d uncovered its beauty.

“You’d be surprised. The place has been standing since 1810, and they built to last then.”

The three-story brick townhouse on the edge of Suffolk’s historic district might look decrepit, but she wasn’t giving up on it. It had the potential to be a showpiece. Besides, it was all she and her daughter had between them and an uncertain future.

She glanced toward the apartment door as they passed it. She’d fixed the apartment up first, so she and Mandy would have a decent place to live. Mandy was occupied right now with a new coloring book, and she wouldn’t hear them.

Her heart cramped. No, Mandy wouldn’t hear them.

They emerged into the open space at the top of the stairs. Ryan looked around doubtfully, and she understood what he was seeing.

The top floor looked like a barren, dusty wreck. Shreds of faded floral wallpaper clung to old horsehair plaster, which had crumbled away to the underlying lath in places. The May sunshine filtering through high, cracked windows, lit up every flaw.

Ryan touched a dangling strip of wallpaper. “You think you can actually make something livable of this?”

She wasn’t used to explaining herself to people, but Ryan, with his uniform and that report sheet on his clipboard, wasn’t just anyone. That insignia he wore gave him the right to probe. Tension skittered along her nerves. He could shut her down.

“Yes, I do. Believe it or not, I have a degree in interior design.”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “This isn’t interior design. It’s construction. Or maybe demolition.”

“My father was a contractor,” she said quickly. “I learned from the best.”

He nodded, still looking doubtful, and started around the third floor. Holding her breath, she followed him. She ran a clean work site—her father had always insisted on that. He wouldn’t find any junk around to complain about.

Ryan’s attention to his inspection gave her ample time to take a look at the man he’d become. The seriousness with which he seemed to take his job was new. The Ryan she remembered had never taken anything seriously, but he’d always seemed able to charm his way out of the trouble his recklessness had gotten him into.

She wasn’t surprised by the neat blue uniform with the Suffolk Fire Department patch that fit his tall figure so well. All the Flanagans had been wedded to the fire department. There’d never been much doubt as to what Ryan would do with his life.

He turned toward her as they reached the stairwell again, smiling. She had to fight not to respond too warmly to that smile. Ryan had added some breadth and height since high school, and the sense of maturity combined with his uniform made a powerful package.

“Looks like you’ve got everything under control up here. Shall we check out the rest?”

She could breathe again. She nodded and started down the stairs, feeling him behind her.

“My apartment on the second floor is completely finished and we’re moved in. It’s not necessary for you to go through that, is it?” She paused, looking up at him.

“I don’t think—” His gaze fixed on something over her shoulder, interrupting the words.

She turned. Mandy stood there, hand on the door-knob, looking at them with a grave, questioning expression in her dark-brown eyes.

Laura reached her in a few steps and touched her daughter’s curly brown hair. “It’s okay,” she said, signing as she did so. “I’m showing the fireman around. There’s nothing to worry about.”

She looked toward Ryan. If she saw pity in his eyes, she’d let him know what she thought about that.

But Ryan was squatting to a five-year-old’s level, and she read only friendliness in his face.

“Hi. My name’s Ryan.” He finger-spelled the name carefully. “What’s yours?”

He spoke naturally, apparently copying what she’d done, and she appreciated that. With her two hearing aids, Mandy might be picking up something.

“My daughter’s name is Mandy.” She continued to sign as she spoke. Mandy should never feel left out.

“You know sign language.”

“You don’t need to sound quite so surprised.” He grinned. “Firefighters need to be able to communicate with people we run into on the job. Unfortunately you’ve seen almost my whole vocabulary.”

Ryan seemed to have turned into a responsible member of society. Maybe she should stop thinking of him as the reckless, laughing kid he’d been in high school.

She gave Mandy a little push toward the apartment. “You finish your picture. We’ll probably be done by then.”

Ryan waved to her. “Bye, Mandy.”

When the door closed behind her, the smile slid from his lips. “She’s a beautiful little girl. Has she been deaf since birth?”

“Yes.” She started down the steps, hoping he’d take the hint. Her personal life was off limits.

“Her father?”

Apparently Ryan wasn’t good at taking hints.

“My husband died a year ago.”

“I’m sorry.” He stopped next to her at the bottom of the stairs, and she was aware of how tall and solid he was. “It must be rough, trying to handle everything on your own.”

Her smile felt frozen. “Not at all. At least, not if we can finish this up so I can get back to work.”

He should have taken offense at that, but he just studied her for a moment, his deep-blue eyes intent but friendly. Then he nodded.

“Okay. Let’s take a quick look around the downstairs.”

“Fine.”

She followed him through the downstairs living room, mentally chastising herself. He’d just been expressing sympathy. She had to stop being so sensitive about her independence.

They pushed through the swinging door to the old kitchen, and she wrinkled her nose. She’d done nothing here yet, and the cracked linoleum and rusted sink rebuked her.

They reached the back door without speaking. Ryan pulled the door open, stepped onto the back porch, and frowned at the stack of wood and construction rubbish piled against the wall.

“I know,” she said quickly. “It shouldn’t be there.”

“It’s a hazard.” His tone was uncompromising.

“I ordered a Dumpster last week. I don’t know why they haven’t brought it yet.” It was yet another of a long string of things that had gone wrong recently.

“Do you want me to call them? They might move a little faster at a request from the fire department.”

“No.”

He was just being nice, she reminded herself. She didn’t need to bite his head off.

“I’ll take care of it,” she added more evenly. “They promised me it would be here days ago.”

He nodded, scribbling something on a sheet and then handing it to her. “This just confirms that we’ve spoken about it. If the situation isn’t remedied in a few days, we’ll have to cite you.”

“Don’t worry.” Her lips were stiff. “It will be.”

He studied her for a moment and then gave her that slightly lopsided smile she’d once yearned to see.

“Don’t look so worried. This is just a formality. I’m sure you’ll take care of the problem.”

She forced a return smile. “Thanks.”

He stepped off the porch. “My name and number are on the form. If you’d like me to get after the trash company, just give me a call.”

“I can manage.”

She could do whatever she had to do, despite the addition of Ryan Flanagan to the list of factors complicating her life since she’d taken on this project.

Her daughter’s future depended on her success with the building. She couldn’t count on anyone else for help—not her family, not her in-laws, not God.

A fierce wave of maternal love swept through her. That didn’t matter. For Mandy, she could do anything.

Ryan piled into the truck behind his older brother, Seth, heart pounding as it always did at the shrilling of the alarm. He glanced at his watch. Six-thirty. Fire could have caught people asleep at this hour of the morning.

Seth, taking his new rank of lieutenant very seriously, was listening to the info coming in on his radio.

“Three-fourteen Delaware Street. Isn’t that the place you inspected yesterday?”

“Yes.” Ryan’s nerves clenched. “Woman and a child in residence. A deaf child.”

He hadn’t gotten their images out of his mind yet. Laura McKay, with that mop of wiry dark hair springing out around her grave, determined face. Her daughter, Mandy—brown curls, her mother’s dark eyes, and those two hearing aids in her small ears.

“What did you find wrong?”

“Trash on the back porch that should have been in a Dumpster. That’s it.”

He should have called the company about that, even though Laura McKay had told him not to.

“That meshes with what the caller said—a blaze on the back porch.” The siren wailed as they took the corner. “We’ll attack from the alley. You and Dave can do the entry.”

He nodded. Seth was giving him the rescue. Nice to know his big brother had that much faith in him, even though their new relationship of lieutenant to firefighter sometimes rubbed both of them the wrong way.

Of course, if the posting to the arson squad he’d applied for came through, it would eliminate the problem. He’d have a different boss, a different job. He hadn’t told anyone about it yet, not sure himself how he felt about the change.

He pushed the whole business from his mind. There wasn’t room to think about anything else when he went into a fire scene.

They shrieked up the alley, the backs of the buildings a little seedy here compared to the polish of the historic district in the next block. Seth leaned forward, probably assessing what they had to deal with.

Seth’s caution was a good quality for a lieutenant. All Ryan wanted to do was get in there and make the grab. His body itched with the need to move.

A bystander in robe and slippers rushed up to the apparatus. “I’m the one called it in. There’s a woman and kid live there—they didn’t come out.”

Ryan pulled out his hand ax as his feet hit the ground. Dave Hanratty was right behind him, both of them fully geared up with masks. Flames licked at the wooden porch, but the building’s brick walls would slow the blaze down.

He nodded to Dave and together they charged toward the door. A couple of quick hits, a kick, and they were in.

Smoke billowed through the downstairs, and a smoke alarm wailed relentlessly. If Laura heard it, why hadn’t she gotten out by now?

“Stairs.” He pointed with the ax. “Apartment on the second floor.”

They hit the steps running, their footsteps thundering on the wooden treads. No flames had reached this area, but the smoke was the danger. Smoke could kill.

He reached the second-floor landing a step ahead of Dave and raised his ax. Before he could swing, the door opened.

Laura stumbled toward them. The little girl in her arms was partially covered with a blanket, but her small face was pinched with terror.

He reached for the child. The woman tried to hang on to her.

“I’ll take her—” Her words died in a fit of coughing.

He grabbed the little girl, ignoring her frightened wail and the mother’s protests. This was no time for politeness. He passed the child to Dave, who started back down the steps with her.

He grabbed Laura’s arm. “Is there anyone else in the building?”

“No.” She tried to pull away from him. “You scared Mandy. I could have carried her out.”

When it came to stubborn, this woman took the cake. He yanked her to the stairs. “Tell me about it later. Right now we’re getting out.”

Luckily she’d shoved her feet into shoes, so he didn’t have to worry about her getting cut up. He hustled her down the steps. The front door stood open now, and together they rushed out into the fresh morning air.

The paramedic unit had already pulled up to the curb, and the crew from the secondary tank truck was wetting down the adjoining buildings.

He took Laura straight to the paramedics—his sister Terry’s team, thank goodness. Terry was the best. She was already checking out the little girl.

Mandy struggled to get away from Terry’s hands, reaching toward her mother. Laura dropped to her knees on the wet pavement, coughing, and swept her child into her arms.

The lump in his throat might have been from the smoke, but he didn’t think so.

Thank You, Father.

He suspected Dave was saying the same prayer. Any day they got people out safely was a good day.

“You need to let us check you out.” Terry’s voice was gentle but authoritative as she peeled the little girl away from her mother.

Laura nodded, but Mandy took one look at him and began to wail again.

Quickly he stripped off the mask and helmet and squatted next to her. “Hey, Mandy, it’s me.” He pulled off his gloves so he could sign his name. “Ryan.”

The wailing stopped and the child’s dark eyes widened, some of the fear leaving them.

“This is just my mask.” He had to gesture to make up for the signs he didn’t know. “See, Terry is going to give you one, too.”

Mandy clutched her mother’s hand, but she let Terry fit the oxygen mask on her face.

Terry glanced up. “Thanks, Ry. We’re going to take them both to the hospital.”

“I’m all right—” Laura began, but the words were interrupted by a fit of coughing.

“Just to check you out,” Terry said gently. “Don’t worry.”

“Listen to my sister.” He gave Laura a reassuring smile. “Trust me, she knows best.”

She nodded, clasping the little girl close as he and Terry helped them into the rig. “Thank you,” she murmured, and the door closed.

He watched the unit out of sight. They’d be all right. He and Dave had gotten to them in time.

He turned back to the building. A sense of relief went through him. Thanks to their fast response, the crew nearly had the blaze out already. By the looks of things, the damage probably wasn’t going to be severe.

Still, thinking about the job Laura was trying to do, he felt a pang of sympathy. She’d already had her hands full. Now, it looked as if her life had just gotten a whole lot tougher.

Laura trudged up the stairs to the second-floor apartment, following the yellow beam of her flashlight in the darkness. The staircase looked like Mount Everest at the moment. Apparently the doctors had been right about the effects of smoke inhalation.

I’m fine. That’s what she’d kept repeating to the doctors all day so they’d let her go.

Mandy was spending the night at the hospital. Just to be on the safe side, they’d said. She’d stayed there, too, until her daughter fell asleep. She’d been tempted to go to sleep herself in the vinyl chair next to Mandy’s bed.

But she kept thinking about the building. How bad was it? She’d been told the fire department had doused the flames quickly, but no one had told her how severe the damage was. She hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking about it. Finally she’d known she had to see for herself.

So she’d come. She’d change her clothes and get Mandy’s favorite teddy bear to take back to the hospital, just in case her daughter wakened in the night. And she’d check out the damage to the only asset they had to their names.

Then she could go back to the hospital and try to sleep in that chair, once she knew the worst.

She pushed herself up the last few steps, feeling as if she carried an enormous weight on her shoulders. The apartment door was closed, but not locked. Had she closed it in the flurry of getting out, when Ryan had manhandled her down those stairs? She didn’t remember.

Inside, she swung the light around, half afraid of what she’d see. Her breath came out in a sigh of relief. The apartment was untouched. The acrid scent of smoke still hung in the air, but that was minor in comparison to what she’d been imagining.

Coughing a little, she crossed to the closest window and opened it a few inches at the top. Cool night air rushed in, fanning her face. She’d deal with airing out the rest of the apartment later.

She went through into the bedroom. The closet door was closed, and she pulled it open. Not too bad. The closed door had protected her clothing from the worst of the smoke.

She pulled out a pair of slacks and a shirt, changing quickly. She’d showered at the hospital, and a nurse had provided some cast-off clothing to replace the sooty, smoky pajamas she’d been wearing. She wouldn’t be likely ever to wear those again.

A shudder ran through her. If the smoke alarm hadn’t gone off, if someone hadn’t seen the blaze and called the fire department, if—

No. She couldn’t let herself keep reliving those terrifying moments when she’d struggled awake and run to Mandy’s room. The problem would be to stop doing it.

She crossed the hall to her daughter’s room, her stomach roiling. When she’d run in, terrified, Mandy had been awake, huddled under her quilt, clutching her teddy bear. Why hadn’t she come to her mother when she realized something was wrong?

The bear, Teddy, lay abandoned on the rag rug next to the single bed. She scooped him up and held him close, feeling tears sting her eyes. We’re all right. We’re safe.

She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. She had no time for crying. The clock was ticking.

In three weeks her prospective buyer would be here to check out the building. The specialist could call at any time to schedule Mandy’s cochlear implant. The two most important things in her life sped toward her.

She had to be ready. She suppressed a flicker of panic.

Okay. Carrying the bear, she started back downstairs. She’d take a quick look at the damage and then head back to the hospital. And tomorrow—

She frowned, swinging the beam of light around the front room of the downstairs. Water from the fire hoses hadn’t mixed very well with the dirt. Would she be able to bring Mandy back here tomorrow? Maybe, if the power company restored the electricity.

If not, that would mean a motel, and how she’d pay for that, she couldn’t imagine. The panic flickered again and was beaten down. She could do this. She’d find a way.

Little as she wanted to, she had to check the back of the building, where the worst damage was. She picked her way carefully across the littered floor, feet moving in the yellow circle cast by the flashlight.

A loud thud sounded at the back of the house. Her heart stopped for an instant and then started thumping wildly. She heard a scuffling sound, then the rumble of a masculine voice, followed by several loud bangs.

The sensible thing was to run out and call the police. She wasn’t feeling very sensible. Instead, rage surged through her. It wasn’t bad enough that she and her child had been forced out of their home by the fire. Now some lowlife was trying to get in and rob them. Well, he’d get more than he’d bargained for this time.

The flashlight beam touched a two-by-four about as long as a baseball bat. Perfect. She grabbed it and advanced on the door to the old kitchen.

Light gleamed from around the swinging door. Apparently her thief had come well-equipped.

Running on anger and adrenaline, she shoved the door open, raising her improvised weapon threateningly. A dark figure stood at the back door.

“What do you think you’re doing? Get out of here!”

He swung around, and her breath caught. Ryan. Ryan Flanagan stood there, a hammer in one hand.

Chapter Two

Ryan lifted his hands. “I give up. Don’t shoot.”

Laura’s heart pounded, as if once the adrenaline started to flow, she couldn’t stop it. “I’m sorry.” She realized she was still holding the two-by-four. It hit the ragged linoleum with a clatter.

He lowered his hands cautiously, probably not sure she was really disarmed. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you were at the hospital.”

“I came back to check the house.”

He nodded toward the teddy bear that was clutched under her arm. “And to find something important, I guess.”

She held the bear a little tighter. “He’s important to Mandy. She likes to sleep with him.”

“How is she?” Ryan leaned against a sooty counter, hands braced against its edge, apparently not minding the dirt. He’d exchanged his uniform for jeans and a dark-blue knit shirt, and he’d picked up a streak of soot across the front of the shirt, presumably since he’d entered the house. The concentrated light of the torch cast his strong face into sharp relief.

She forced herself to concentrate, her wits still scattered after finding him here so unexpectedly. “She’s going to be all right. The doctor thought she should stay until tomorrow to be sure there aren’t any aftereffects from the smoke.”

“That’s good.” He studied her face. “You look as if they should have kept you, too.”

“I’m fine.” She was getting tired of saying that. “I don’t want to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

“Fixing the door.” He gestured toward the door that led onto the porch, and she realized belatedly that the powerful torch he’d set on the counter was trained on the opening. The door sagged on its hinges.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He shrugged. “I broke it. Seems like the least I can do is fix it.”

“I can take care of the door. I don’t need any help.” She had to sound strong, because she was unaccountably weepy at the thought that Ryan Flanagan had actually come back to do something for her.

“Not even from an old school friend?” He gave her the easy grin that charmed so readily.

She blinked, startled. “I thought you didn’t recognize me.”

“You’re Laura Jane Phillips. At least, it used to be Phillips. You were a year behind me at Suffolk High. Am I right?”

She nodded. So he had remembered her. Or perhaps someone had told him who she was.

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were yesterday?” His eyebrows lifted. “Or didn’t you remember me?”

“No one could forget the Flanagans.” She answered the second question first, evading his eyes. “I just—didn’t think it was appropriate to get into old home week when you were here on business.”

He leaned casually against the filthy counter, as if ready to stay and chat all night. “It bugged me all day, trying to figure out why you looked so familiar to me. How are your folks?”

“They’ve retired to Arizona. My dad’s health isn’t very good.” The usual pang of concern gripped her heart at the thought of her father.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I guess otherwise he’d be here doing the renovation for you.”

She nodded. It wasn’t necessary to confide in Ryan that her father didn’t know she was doing the rehab herself, for that very reason. If Dad knew, he’d try to come and probably kill himself in the process.

As for her mother—well, she’d stopped trying to figure her mother out a long time ago. She just knew she couldn’t count on her for help with this or anything else.

Ryan relaxed his long frame against the counter, not seeming in any hurry to get on with the door-fixing. “Anyway, I didn’t know you’d come back to Suffolk. I thought you were living in Philadelphia.”

“How on earth would you know that?” She hadn’t imagined he’d remember who she was, let alone know where she’d gone after school.

He grinned. “You’re forgetting my mother, with her encyclopedic knowledge of anyone who’s ever attended our church. Once I mentioned you, she trotted out everything she knew, including the fact that you were married and living in Philly. She was surprised we haven’t seen you in church since you’ve been back.”

Siobhan Flanagan had taught her in church school twice—once in kindergarten, then again in junior high. She had a gentle manner, a warm smile and a love that extended to even the most rebellious of teens.

Still, however warm her memories of Ryan’s mother, she was not going to defend her failure to attend church to him. “Please greet her for me. And really, I can take care of the door.”

He shoved away from the counter in a smooth, even movement. “Tell you what. You hold the boards and I’ll pound. We’ll have it secure in no time.”

That was probably the fastest way to get him out of here, so she set the flashlight and teddy bear down and went to the door. The acrid scent of wet, burned wood from the back porch sent a wave of nausea through her, and she forced it down angrily.

Ryan had apparently brought a few two-by-fours with him, because the wood gleamed new. He put one of the boards against the door, and she braced it with both hands.

He used the hammer with quick, effective strokes. The board vibrated from his force, jolting her hands.

“So, after your husband’s death, you decided to come home and buy this place.” The pounding punctuated his words, and she felt the flex of his muscles where his arm brushed her shoulder.

“Not exactly. My husband had bought the building a couple of years ago for some business venture he had in mind, but he never got around to doing anything with it. So I decided to fix it up.”

She wouldn’t add that this building was the only legacy Jason had left her and Mandy. That everything else he’d received from his father had been frittered away on one foolish scheme or another, until his father had finally cut him off, saying Jason would have to pay for his own mistakes. Apparently he’d put her and Mandy in the mistake category.

“You plan to live here?” Ryan propped another board across the door, and it gleamed palely against the blackened frame.

“I’m fixing it up to sell. I have a buyer who has an option, if I can get the renovation done before she loses interest or finds something better.”

Ryan paused, looking over his shoulder at her. Her pulse gave a little jump. Her hands were planted next to his on the board, and his face was only inches away.

“And then you’ll leave Suffolk again?” He looked at her as if he really wanted to know. As if it might matter to someone what she did.

Her mouth was dry. From the smoke, she assured herself. Not because Ryan Flanagan had any effect on her.

She moistened her lips. “I haven’t decided yet. Mandy is going to have a cochlear implant—at least I hope she is, if all the tests go well. I can’t plan beyond that right now.”

The implant could give Mandy a chance at a normal life. How could she think of anything else?

“At the hospital here?” His eyes lit with interest.

“That’d be Dr. Marsh, I guess.”

“You’ve heard of him.” She was faintly surprised. Franklin Marsh was well-known to parents of deaf children, but why would Ryan know of him?

“My sister-in-law, Gabe’s wife, trains animals to work with people who have disabilities. She introduced me to Dr. Marsh at a benefit. I understand he does good work.”

“He’s the best.” She wouldn’t trust her daughter’s hearing and her future to anyone who wasn’t. “If he decides Mandy will benefit from an implant, it will make all the difference in the world to us.”

And if he did accept Mandy for the procedure, she somehow had to come up with the over fifty thousand dollars the process would cost. The minimal insurance program she was able to afford would cover Mandy’s stay in the hospital, but it didn’t cover a cochlear implant.

As if he felt all the things she didn’t say, Ryan put his hand over hers where it rested on the board. “I hope it works out.”

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate that. And really, I can finish up the door. I’m sure you have other things to do with your evening.”

“I’m free as a bird.” He pounded another nail in place. “And anyway, as far as I can see, it’s finished.”

He stood back, smiling at her. He was right. The door was secured.

He’d shaken off her protests and done exactly what he’d said he would. And he’d gotten more information from her than she’d confided in anyone in months.

She raised her eyebrows at him, dusting her hands off. “Do you always get your own way?”

His smile broadened into a grin. “If you remember my family, you ought to know that I grew up fighting a bunch of siblings to get what I wanted. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“I remember that you used to charm the teachers into letting you get away with murder.”

Now why had she said that? The man would think she was flirting with him.

“Lies, spread by my brothers, no doubt.” His smile assumed an angelic aspect. “I was always a serious student.”

“Somehow I find that difficult to believe.” And she also found it difficult to believe that she was standing here smiling at him, after everything that had happened this day.

“Why is it no one will take me seriously?” He dropped the hammer into a duffel bag and picked up the flashlight.

“Maybe because you don’t take yourself seriously.”

“Ouch, that hurt. A woman who sees right through me. I’d better watch out.” He hefted the bag. “Anything else I can fix while I’m here?”

“Everything’s fine.” Well, it wasn’t, but he ought to know what she meant. “I guess we’d better go out the front door, since you’ve nailed up the back.”

He nodded, and then he unexpectedly clasped her hand in his. His face was very serious in the dim light. “I wish you and your daughter the best.”

“Thank you.”

Ryan’s words had been the kind of simple statement anybody might make. They shouldn’t make her throat go so tight.

She turned away quickly, feeling him behind her as she headed for the door to the living room. Ryan Flanagan had a way of slipping through her carefully prepared defenses as if they weren’t even there.

So it was a good thing she wouldn’t be seeing any more of him.

“Listen, Ryan, are you sure Laura McKay isn’t going to mind our breaking into her house this way?”

Ryan’s brother Gabe paused, leaning on the shovel he’d been using to scrape soot and crumbled plaster from the ground floor of Laura’s building. Max, the yellow lab who was Gabe’s seizure-alert dog, sniffed at a pile of rubble, tail waving.

“Why would she? We’re only trying to help.”

Ryan suspected Laura wouldn’t see it that way, given her strong streak of independence. But no matter how much she might insist she didn’t need help, she was wrong. By the time she got home from the hospital with Mandy, he hoped they’d have much of the fire clean-up done.

A handful of Flanagans had offered to come along today along with several other firefighters. His cousin Brendan had used his clout as pastor to round up some more volunteers from the congregation.

All told, probably twenty or thirty people hustled around Laura’s property, sweeping, mopping, carting away fire rubbish. Now if he could just persuade Laura to accept the help they offered, everything would be fine.

Well, he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Come on, put your back into it. They’ll be home from the hospital soon.”

Gabe shrugged and went back to shoveling.

Their mother looked up from the broom she was wielding. “I’m sure Laura will be happy to see us.” Siobhan Flanagan smiled. “And I’ll be glad to see her. I remember her from church school, years ago. Laura was always such a sweet, shy little thing.”

“She’s changed since then, Mom.”

“Well, of course people change. Being the single mother of a deaf child would make someone grow up in a hurry, I’d think. Poor child.”

He wasn’t sure whether her sympathy was for Laura or Mandy, but it didn’t really matter. Mom had enough love to go around for any number of people.

If it came to pitting Laura’s stubborn independence against his mother’s determination to help, he wouldn’t want to guess at a winner.

Even as he thought it, the front door swung open, letting in a shaft of May sunshine. Laura stood there, clasping Mandy protectively against her.

For a moment she didn’t move. She just stood, looking around the room as if unable to believe what she was seeing. Then she turned toward him with what looked like an accusation in her dark eyes.

She probably intended to come straight for him, but his mother got to her first. “Laura, it’s so good to see you.” She swept Laura into a quick hug. “I’m Siobhan Flanagan. You remember me, don’t you?”

“Mrs. Flanagan.” Laura took a step back. “Yes, of course I do.” She darted a glance toward Ryan. “You’re Ryan’s mother.”

It sounded as if she wanted to follow that up with, Why are you here?

“We’re helping with the clean-up.” His mother wasn’t deterred by any reserve on Laura’s part. She waved toward the workers. “You remember Gabe, my oldest boy.”

“Mom, I’m not a boy,” Gabe protested automatically. He lifted his hand toward Laura. “Hi, Laura.”

“And that’s Brendan, my nephew. He’s pastor of our church now, you know.”

Laura nodded in Brendan’s direction, not committing herself to any knowledge of his pastorship of Grace Church. “It’s very nice of you to want to help out, but really, I can take care of this myself.”

Ryan had warned his mother that Laura would respond that way, and he waited to see how she’d handle it.

She did it with a smile and a gentle touch on Mandy’s hair. The little girl gave her a shy smile in return, and Laura put her down.

“You wouldn’t turn us away when we’re having so much fun, now would you? That wouldn’t be kind.”

Laura opened her mouth and closed it again. Clearly she didn’t want to be accused of being unkind by turning away kindness from others. He tried to hide his expression.

“No, I—well, thank you.”

She frowned at him, and he smiled blandly back. Maybe he ought to take lessons from his mother in how to approach someone as prickly as Laura was.

Nolie approached her. “Hi, I’m Nolie Flanagan. Gabe’s wife.” She bent toward Mandy, her hands signing fluently. “You must be Mandy.”

Mandy nodded, giving her that shy smile.

“Would you like to go upstairs and help me make sandwiches for lunch?” She patted the rounded bulge of baby under her sky-blue top as she glanced at Laura. “Gabe is getting nervous about every little thing I do, but he agrees that making sandwiches won’t hurt me.”

“I don’t know if Mandy will go with you,” Laura began, and then stopped. Mandy was already putting her hand in Nolie’s. “Well, I guess she will. Thank you.”

She watched her daughter start up the steps with an expression that told Ryan clearly that she didn’t want her daughter out of her sight. That caution was natural enough, he supposed, after what they’d been through, but Nolie would take good care of the child, and she’d be away from the mess and dirt.

When they’d disappeared toward the apartment, Laura swung around and headed straight toward him. She stopped a scant two feet away and scowled. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” She kept her voice low, apparently not wanting everyone else to hear.

“Hey, I’m innocent.”

She raised level dark brows. “Am I supposed to believe it’s a total coincidence that my house is filled with Flanagans?”

“Some of them aren’t. Flanagans, I mean. There are a couple of firefighters here, and some people from the church that Brendan recruited.”

“Don’t you mean you recruited?”

“Not me. All I did was mention the fire to my mother. She did the rest.” He gave a mock shudder.

“Trust me on this one. My mother may be soft-spoken, but you don’t want to get between her and something she’s decided to do.”

“Do you really want me to believe you’re afraid of your mother?”

He grinned. “You bet.”

Well, not afraid of her, but concerned about her opinion. Maybe that was why he hadn’t told his mother yet about applying to the arson squad.

“I don’t believe you.” She shook her head. “And anyway, that’s not the point.”

“Right. The point is that you want to do everything all by yourself.”

He thought her lips twitched slightly. “Are you trying to make me sound like a two-year-old?”

“You said it, I didn’t.” Before she could respond, he raised both hands. “Let’s declare a truce, okay? We’re here. Is it really so hard to let us help you?”

“No. I’m just—“

“Super-independent. I figured that one out already. What I haven’t figured out yet is why.”

Her dark-brown eyes met his, and for an instant they held so much pain that it took his breath away. Then her usual shield dropped into place and she gave him a polite, meaningless smile.

“I guess all I can do is say thanks.”

She turned away. He stood watching as she picked up a box and began loading debris into it.

Laura had her game face back on now. But he’d seen behind it, and that glimpse into her shook him. A man would have to be crazy to get involved with someone who was carrying that load of grief.

Not that he was even thinking about doing such a thing.

Laura was still wondering what she was doing when she arrived at the Flanagan house for dinner a few evenings later. She was usually quite good at getting out of things she didn’t want to do. Unfortunately she’d found that Siobhan Flanagan was very difficult to keep saying no to.

Maybe it was because Siobhan had been her church-school teacher, back when she’d still had a child’s faith, thinking that every problem could be solved by prayer. She was swept with a sudden wave of longing to be back in that church-school room, sitting in the child-size chair and hearing Bible stories told in Siobhan’s soft, loving voice.

A person could never go back, although the Flanagans seemed to be doing a good job of keeping their lives just the way they’d been.

She held Mandy’s hand as they started up the walk to the welcoming brick house. Everything about the neighborhood—the mature trees, the old-fashioned flowerbeds brimming with tulips and irises, the comfortable old two-story homes—said that here was a place where people found safety and serenity.

She smiled at her daughter as they reached the steps that led to the wide front porch. Pansies crowded pots on either side of the stairs, and a cushion-piled porch swing creaked a little in the breeze.

“Mrs. Flanagan has pretty flowers, doesn’t she?”

Mandy nodded, her small face tense, and Laura’s throat clenched. She was taking her daughter into the sort of situation she usually avoided, just because she couldn’t say no to Siobhan.

“We don’t have to stay long, okay? We can go home right after supper if you want to.”

“Okay.”

She smiled, touching Mandy’s cheek. “Good talking, Mandy.” Mandy didn’t verbalize very often since her hearing had worsened, so it was an occasion for praise when she did.

She squeezed her daughter’s hand, and together they approached the door. It was flung open before she could knock. Three children crowded around them, making Mandy shrink against her.

“They’re here, they’re here!” The oldest, a girl who must be about six or so, caught Mandy’s hand and pulled her inside. “Grammy, they’re here.”

Flanagans. Obviously they were all three Flanagans, with the same reddish-gold hair and blue eyes. If only they weren’t quite so friendly—it was like being surrounded by a bunch of puppies, all trying to jump on her.

“Enough shouting.” Siobhan grabbed the smallest boy and held him close. “You sound like a bunch of hooligans. Welcome, Laura. Mandy. We’re glad you’re here.”

“Thank you for inviting us.” How soon would it be polite to leave?

“These two monsters are Mary Kate’s.” She touched the oldest girl and the boy who looked about Mandy’s age. “Shawna and Michael.” She squeezed the smaller boy. “And this is Seth’s little boy, Davy.”

The front door opened into a large, comfortable, slightly shabby living room. The adults all seemed to be gathered around the fireplace. All of them were looking at her.

Siobhan led her forward and began introducing them. Mandy stayed close behind her, clutching her hand tightly. Most of them she knew already, but she hadn’t met Brendan’s wife or Seth’s fiancée. She nodded, smiled, and decided that there were way too many Flanagans.

One was missing, though. She’d recognized the moment she entered the room that Ryan wasn’t here. On duty, maybe? Before she could be sure whether she felt relief or disappointment, he came striding in from what was probably the kitchen.

She absolutely would not feel pleasure at the sight of him. Still, when his smile lit his deep-blue eyes, it was hard not to, especially when he came directly to her.

“Laura, hi. Well, what do you think?” He waved toward his family. “If you can stand all these people talking at once, you might be able to get through a Sunday supper at the Flanagan house.”

“Stop teasing, Ryan.” Siobhan swatted at him affectionately. “You make Laura feel welcome, now. I’ve got to get back to the roast.”

“Can I do something—” she began, but Siobhan was already gone.

“This is your first time here,” Ryan said. “Relax and enjoy yourself. It’s Mary Kate’s family’s turn to help this week, anyway.”

“You do this every Sunday?”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?” His grin negated the words. “If the weather’s nice, we go out to Gabe and Nolie’s farm instead, where the kids can run. Mandy would like seeing the place. Lots of animals.”

Was that an invitation? She wasn’t sure, and maybe it was safer to ignore it.

“I thought maybe you were working tonight.” That suggested she’d been looking for him, and she wanted the words back.

“We all try to get off Sunday when we can. These get-togethers are important to Mom. Besides, Pastor Brendan would get after us if we missed church.” His eyebrows lifted. “I thought maybe we’d see you there this morning.”

Apparently the Flanagans didn’t intend to let her forget that she’d once belonged to their church. A little flicker of annoyance went through her. “I’m not sure Mandy would feel comfortable there.”

“Why not?” His eyes were fixed on hers, seeming to demand an answer.

“It’s difficult when she can’t understand what’s going on.” And why won’t you leave it alone?

“Nolie’s always in church school. I know she’d be glad to sign for Mandy.”

He was crowding her on the subject, and she frowned at him. “It’s hard for her to interact with hearing children.”

“Really?” He nodded toward the corner of the room.

“She seems to be doing fine at the moment.”

She’d thought Mandy was still at her side. Instead she was clear across the room, sitting in front of a tower of blocks with the other children.

She made an instinctive movement toward them. “I’ll just go and—”

Ryan stopped her with a touch on her arm. “Why don’t you let them play? They’re okay.”

Irritation scraped along her nerves. Ryan didn’t know anything about raising a hearing-impaired child. But she watched as Shawna handed Mandy a block, clapping when she put it on top of the tower. Mandy’s solemn little face broke into a smile.

Laura’s throat tightened. That was what she wanted for Mandy—to see her playing normally with other children instead of being trapped and isolated in her silent world.

“Laura, it’s grand to have you back in Suffolk.” Ryan’s father approached with an outstretched hand. She probably would have known Joe Flanagan anywhere—he still had that square, bulldog face and friendly smile, although only a few tinges of red showed in his now-white hair.

“Thank you. And thanks for all the help from your family with the fire clean-up.”

He shrugged. “Firefighters enjoy seeing things put back to rights after a fire. You know that all of us Flanagans are involved with the department now, don’t you?”

Ryan groaned. “Please, Dad. I’m sure Laura doesn’t want to hear about our old family traditions.”

His father’s face tightened, as if he were about to issue a reprimand.

“I have every reason to know about Seth and Terry and Ryan, since I met them on the job,” she said quickly.

Joe nodded. “I guess you did at that. Sorry I wasn’t there. I never thought I’d be stuck at a desk job in the department, but it makes me proud to know that those three are out there on my old team.”

She nodded, glancing at Ryan, and was struck by the expression that crossed his face at his father’s words. What was it? It was gone too quickly to say, but she was left with a sense of something uneasy behind Ryan’s smile.

Chapter Three

Despite her qualms, Laura decided that the evening had gone pretty well. They’d moved past dessert and coffee, and she sat next to Nolie, Gabe’s wife, on the sofa. The other woman had the serene, absorbed face some women wore during pregnancy, as if they listened to something inside themselves.

“Do you know yet if the baby’s a boy or girl? Or aren’t you telling?”

She’d been eager to find out when she was pregnant. The tests had told her she was going to have a daughter. They hadn’t been able to predict that Mandy would be born with a serious hearing problem.

“It’s a girl.” Nolie’s face curved in a satisfied smile.

“I thought maybe Gabe would want a boy first, but he says after growing up with his brothers and cousin, he’s delighted to have a baby girl.”

“That’s lovely.” Unexpected tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away. “My husband—”

She stopped. Jason had been disappointed their child had been a girl, and doubly disappointed that she hadn’t been perfect, but she shouldn’t say that.

“I’m sorry.” Nolie clasped her hand in sudden empathy, seeming to understand what she didn’t say. “But you shouldn’t worry too much about her. I work with children who have disabilities, so I see the parents’ concerns all the time. Mandy’s such a bright, loved child. Believe me, she’ll do fine.”

“I want her to have the best. I know she can live a full life without hearing, but if she qualifies for the cochlear implant—”

A cry interrupted her, and she swung around, heartbeat accelerating. Mandy—

Michael was trying to pull a toy train from her hand. He wrenched it free, and Mandy wailed.

She was across the room in an instant, but Siobhan got there first, pulling her grandson away.

“Michael Joseph Driscoll, I’m disappointed in you. Mandy is our guest. Say you’re sorry.”

“He just wanted to show her how it works, Grammy,” Shawna said. “Honest.”

Laura wrapped her arms around Mandy, feeling her child’s hot tears against her face. Her heart hurt. Mandy didn’t understand. How could she?

“Sorry,” Michael mumbled.

Everyone was looking at them. All she wanted to do was get out.

“That’s fine, Michael. I know you didn’t mean it.” She struggled to smile at the child. After all, he was just behaving like a normal, hearing five-year-old.

She stood, holding Mandy in her arms, arranging a smile on her face for Siobhan. “Mandy’s getting tired. I think it’s time we headed for home. Thank you so much for dinner.”

Siobhan was wise enough not to argue, but Laura could read the regret in her eyes. She gave Laura a quick hug and stroked Mandy’s curls. “It was lovely to have you here. Come again soon.”

She nodded, her smile stiff. No, they wouldn’t come again. All the Flanagans meant well, but Mandy needed a less chaotic environment than the one they provided.

Ryan reached her and lifted Mandy from her arms before she realized what he was doing. “I’ll walk you out.”

“I’ll take her.” They’d had this conversation before, hadn’t they? Ryan hadn’t listened to her then.

“Mandy’s fine with me, aren’t you, little girl?” He stroked Mandy’s hair with a gentle touch.

She hated to admit it, but he was right. Mandy snuggled against him, her face tucked into his strong shoulder. For some reason that was obscure to Laura, Mandy trusted him.

She said her goodbyes quickly, trying to evade repeated invitations and offers of help from each of the Flanagans. It seemed the goodbyes would never end, but finally she escaped out the front door with Ryan carrying Mandy.

She paused for an instant on the porch, inhaling the cool spring air and absorbing the quiet.

“Okay?” Ryan gave her a quizzical look.

She could hardly tell him that his family exhausted her. “Fine.” She gave him a meaningless smile and walked quickly to the steps, eager to put this evening behind her.

They went down the steps in silence, the warm spring night closing around them. The porch light cast a yellow glow on the walk, fading as they neared the car.

She swung the rear door open, struggling to find something polite and dismissive to say to Ryan.

“She is tired, isn’t she?” Ryan lowered Mandy to her booster seat and fastened the seatbelt carefully. He picked up the teddy bear. It looked tiny in his big hands as he tucked it against Mandy. “She’s almost asleep already,” he said softly.

Guilt flickered. “I shouldn’t have stayed so long. This was too much excitement for her.”

Ryan straightened, planting one hand against the car roof and looking at her questioningly. “Hey, I know we’re a noisy bunch, but we’re not that bad, are we?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” She could feel the heat in her cheeks. She hadn’t intended her words as an insult. He should realize that.

“It looked to me as if Mandy had a good time. Sure you’re not overreacting a little?”

She stiffened. “If you’re saying I’m overprotective of my daughter—”

“Hey, relax. I wasn’t criticizing.” He glanced at Mandy, asleep now with the bear cuddled against her chin, safe in the cocoon of her car seat. “I’d probably feel exactly the same if I were Mandy’s parent.”

Her flicker of anger died. “Maybe I am a little too protective.” The fact that he’d agreed with her made it easier to admit. “I just—well, I know I’m all Mandy has, so I have to do it right. I guess I still haven’t figured out how to let her learn without getting hurt.”

“Maybe that’s impossible.” He leaned toward her a little, and she caught the fresh scent of soap on his skin, mingled with the heady aroma of lilacs from the huge old bushes that flanked the driveway. “I don’t know how my folks managed with the five of us, and then taking in my cousin Brendan, too. We were always getting hurt.”

“Your parents had each other to rely on.” Her thoughts flickered to Jason. She’d learned the hard way not to rely on him.

“Even with a ton of family around willing to give you free advice, it’s not always easy to know what to do.”

His serious expression startled her. She wasn’t used to seeing somber reflection from Ryan, and she’d guess most other people weren’t, either. He was always so laughing and relaxed that it was hard to remember that he probably had his dark moments, too.

“Have they been giving you advice about something?”

Somehow the dusk and quiet of the warm summer evening made it easier to ask the personal question. It was as if, for the moment at least, they were enclosed together, separate from the happy, noisy family group she knew was behind the wide windows.

He shook his head. “Actually, this time I haven’t let them in on it. Sometimes other people’s expectations get in the way of knowing what’s best for you.”

“Is it something you want to talk about?”

“Are you offering to listen?” He leaned a little closer, until she could almost feel his breath against her face.

Her heart lurched. It took an effort to speak evenly.

“After everything you’ve done for us, listening is a small repayment.”

“No repayment needed. But actually, I’m thinking of making a career change.”

That startled her. “Leave the fire department?” She’d imagine that would create a stir in the Flanagan family. They’d all seemed so proud of their position. Even Brendan, the minister, was the fire department chaplain, he’d told her.

“Not leave entirely, no. I’ve applied for a position with the arson squad. It’s run by the fire department here in Suffolk, rather than the police like it is some places, but it’s a separate branch.”

“Is that really such a change? You’d still be a firefighter in a way, wouldn’t you?”

“You heard my dad. He’s so proud that Seth and Terry and I are in his old squad.” He frowned, his dark brows creating a V. “He had a hard time adjusting when Gabe got hurt and couldn’t fight fire anymore, and then his heart attack took him off the line.”

“You don’t want to disappoint him.” She understood, only too well, and was surprised at the similarity to her own life. She’d gladly have gone into the construction business with her father, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it. “He’d want you to do what was right for you, wouldn’t he?”

Ryan’s smile flickered. “He thinks he already knows what that is.”

“And you’re not so sure anymore.”

“I never considered any other line of work.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m looking for a different challenge. Or maybe I’m just trying to get out from under my big brothers’ shadows.”

She didn’t know what to say. She’d always thought Ryan Flanagan one of those lucky beings who are born confident, laughing and sure of himself. Now it looked as if he had doubts, too.

She felt for him—a sudden empathy that startled and disturbed her. She didn’t want to feel for anyone but her daughter. She had far too much responsibility in her life right now to leave room for anything else.

Luckily he didn’t seem to expect an answer from her. He touched her arm lightly, and she felt the warmth of that touch right through the fabric of her sweater.

“Hey, I’ll work it out. But thanks for listening. I’ll be glad to return the favor, any time.”

She managed to smile, to nod. Ryan meant well, but she didn’t have any intention of sharing her inner thoughts with anyone, least of all him. He’d come too far into her life already.

Now what exactly was he doing back here again? Ryan didn’t have a good answer to that question as he approached Laura’s building the next day. If those moments with Laura by her car the night before had taught him anything, it was that she spelled danger to a man like him.

He ought to stay as far away as possible from Laura McKay, with her fierce sense of responsibility and her prickly determination to do everything herself. Instead here he was, putting his head in the front door that stood ajar, probably to air the place out.

“Anybody home?” He tapped on the frame.

Mandy’s head jerked up. Had she responded to the sound or the vibration? He wasn’t sure. She had a child’s toy broom and dustpan, and she’d obviously been mimicking her mother’s work.

“Hi, Mandy.”

She broke into a smile and carefully finger-spelled his name.

“Good job.”

“What’s a good job?” Laura came in from the kitchen, carrying a bucket. “Hi, Ryan.”

“Mandy finger-spelled my name when I came in.”

A smile blazed across Laura’s face. “That is a good job.” She set the bucket on the floor and hugged the little girl, and for a moment the love in her eyes seemed strong enough to light the world.

It was a warning, that love. It announced in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t wander into their lives and then wander out again. Laura and Mandy needed more than that.

I’m just helping out, he told his conscience firmly. Nothing else.

“You’re making progress.” He glanced around the large rectangular room that was cleared now of debris. The fireplace that covered most of one wall had obviously just been cleaned, revealing the mellow, rosy tone of the bricks.

“Not enough.” Laura followed the direction of his gaze, but her level brows drew down, as if she saw all that remained to be done instead of what she’d accomplished already. “The fire put me days behind my schedule.”

“I can spare some time to help on my off days, if you want.”

The corners of her wide mouth tucked in, as if she didn’t want to give anything away. “That’s not necessary. I can—”

“I know. You can do it yourself. That doesn’t mean an extra pair of hands wouldn’t make it go faster.”

She evaded his eyes, and he suspected she was searching for a good excuse. Or at least, a change of subject.

“Maybe so.” Her tone was noncommittal. “Tell me, have you talked to your folks yet about the new job?”

She’d opted for the change of subject. And he must have been suffering from a mental lapse when he’d told her about that. Why on earth would he talk to her about something he hadn’t even told his family?

“Not yet, but I have to.” He couldn’t suppress a grin.

“I just heard that I passed the test. I’ve been called for an interview.”

And once again, he’d told her something he’d told no one else.

She came closer, as if she needed to study his face seriously. “Are you happy about it?”

Was he? A good question. “I guess. The arson squad would be a challenge, if I got it. Lots of brainwork.” He grimaced. “To tell the truth, I’m better at physical challenges than mental ones.”

Maybe that was the problem. He liked the physical risks of firefighting, maybe too much. He’d told Laura about Dad’s heart attack, but he hadn’t told her all of it. Not about the part he’d played.

“Just tell them.” She put her hand lightly on his arm.

“They might surprise you. And if they’re upset, at least it will be out in the open. You can’t deal with it as long as they don’t know.”

“You’re pretty good in the advice department, you know that?”

She smiled slightly, shaking her head. “I should have learned something from all the mistakes I’ve made.”

A man who was interested in a woman would follow up on a comment like that. But he’d just told himself how wrong it would be to get interested in her, hadn’t he? Whatever he said next had to be noncommittal.

“Well, given the way rumors fly around the department, I’d better come clean before they hear it from someone else.”

Laura didn’t move, but she seemed to draw back a little. Her smile faded. She got the message.

She turned her attention to the bucket, wringing a sponge out as if it were a very important action. “Speaking of the department, I’d say you’ve more than done your duty here. The fire damage is cleaned up, and I’m back on target with my renovation.”

It was a nice, polite dismissal. Well, that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He couldn’t get involved with her. He couldn’t let Mandy start to depend on him. Everyone knew he wasn’t dependable when it came to relationships.

He took a breath. For some reason, he couldn’t seem to find the words to agree with her. “I’ll just check that back door to be sure the new lock is in right, and then I’ll be on my way.”

She nodded, her smile stiff.

Right. He headed for the kitchen before he could say something he shouldn’t.

Fifteen minutes later he was still fiddling with a perfectly good lock. Maybe he ought to face the fact that he didn’t want to leave.

This isn’t about what you want, dummy. It’s about what’s the right thing to do.

His head came up at the sound of voices in the other room. Apparently Laura had company.

“Mr. Potter.” Laura didn’t sound happy to be interrupted yet again.

“Bradley, please. I thought you were going to call me Bradley.”

Bradley Potter. Nice, well-off, the last son of one of Suffolk’s founding families. Brad was a successful businessman, good-looking, single. Laura ought to be friendlier to someone like that.

“Another list of changes?” She didn’t sound particularly friendly at the moment. He heard the rustle of papers. “But I’ve already complied with the requirements from the historic preservation committee.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bradley’s tone exuded sympathy. “I wish I didn’t have to bring you bad news, but I’m sure you understand that we have to be very careful about any renovations that go on in the historic district.”

“I know that.” Laura snapped the words.

Maybe he’d better get in there before she got into a fight with one of the most influential men in town. He strolled into the room, enjoying the look of surprise on Brad’s face at the sight of him.

“Hey, Brad. What are you up to?”

“Ryan. What are you doing here?” Brad nodded stiffly, his immaculate dress shirt and flannel pants incongruous in what was essentially a construction site.

Still, he was a lot better for Laura and Mandy than a commitment-phobic firefighter.

“Just checking up on some of the repairs after the fire. You did know that Ms. McKay had a fire out in the back, didn’t you?”

“I heard.” Brad turned toward Laura. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble you’ve been having.” He nodded toward the papers in her hand. “And that I have to add to your problems at a time like this.”

Mandy came to lean against Ryan, and he put one hand on her shoulder. Maybe the child sensed the tension in the room and had picked him for a friend. Laura certainly looked as if she’d gotten some bad news.

“So how exactly are you adding to Ms. McKay’s problems?” Stay out of it, he told himself. But he didn’t seem to be listening.

Laura looked up from the papers, her face pale and tight. “The historic preservation committee has landed me with a new set of requirements. Two pages’ worth of things they didn’t tell me on the initial inspection.”

“As I was saying to Laura, the preservation committee is especially careful of any renovation in the historic district.” Brad’s tone was as smooth as silk. He must have practiced that statement a few times. “I might personally think they’re being a little unreasonable, but I have to do as the committee tells me.”

“Let me have a look at what they’re asking.” He reached for the papers.

But before he could reach them, Brad took them from Laura’s hands. “This is just a work sheet. I’ll have a more official list drawn up and drop it off for you.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was tight.

Brad seemed to hesitate, glancing from Ryan to Laura. “Look, I know these changes seem unduly harsh. Why don’t I have a word with the committee members unofficially, before this goes to its final format? Maybe I can get them to ease up on some of their requirements.”

“Would you?” Laura’s smile blazed, and Brad blinked as if the sun had just come out.

“Of course.” His voice warmed suddenly. “Of course I would.”

Hadn’t he been telling himself that Brad Potter was just the sort of man for Laura? He shouldn’t feel like punching the guy just because Laura was looking at him as if he were some sort of hero.

Laura hadn’t seen much of the Flanagans for several days, and nothing at all of Ryan. She ran the paint roller smoothly along the downstairs wall, admiring the rich burgundy she’d decided on after researching the original colors.

The floor refinishing had gone beautifully, and now that she could get the paint on the walls, this area was really shaping up. It would be perfect for a small shop catering to the visitors in the historic district or a lovely living room for a buyer who wanted a private home.

Nolie Flanagan had enthused about the color when she’d stopped by earlier. She’d come with an invitation for Mandy to visit the farm and see the animals.

Laura had been evasive. Mandy would love to see the animals, of course, but she couldn’t help thinking it was better not to get too involved with the Flanagan family. She didn’t want to be anyone’s object of charity, no matter how sincere they were.

She frowned at the fresh paint. She ought to be honest with herself, at least. The truth was that she should stay away from them because she found herself far too attracted to Ryan’s easy smile for her peace of mind.

All she could concentrate on right now was Mandy’s welfare. There was no room in her life for anything else. She was happy Ryan hadn’t been around. So why did she feel so out of sorts?

She glanced at her watch. The plasterers were supposed to be here by now to do the third-floor walls. That was one thing she hadn’t felt competent to tackle herself. She put down the roller and stretched. Maybe she’d better take a break and call the plasterer.

Five minutes later she returned the phone to the cradle carefully, because if she didn’t, she just might throw the receiver against the wall. She clutched her hair with her hands, heedless of the paint she was probably spreading around, and squeezed her eyes closed. What else could possibly go wrong?

“What’s the matter?” The voice came like an echo of her thoughts.

She swung around, blinking back tears. She wouldn’t give in to that weakness, especially not in front of Ryan.

“Hi. I didn’t hear you come in.” And why did she always have to look like a total wreck whenever Ryan saw her?

He crossed the room toward her, his gaze fixed on her face. “Something’s wrong. What?”

She shook her head, appalled at how glad she was to see him. “Plasterers. They were supposed to show up today. Instead they’re suddenly so busy that they can’t possibly squeeze me in for at least a couple of weeks.”

“You can’t wait a couple of weeks?”

“Impossible. I have to get this done.” She could hear her voice veering out of control, and she couldn’t seem to help it. “If I’m not finished by the time my prospective buyer comes, she’ll go elsewhere. And Mandy’s surgery—”

She stopped, fighting for control. She wasn’t going to spill all her troubles to Ryan, no matter how sympathetic he was.

And then he touched her shoulder gently, and all her resolve disappeared. She choked on a sob, and he pulled her against him.

“Don’t.” She tried ineffectually to move away.

“You’ll get paint on your shirt.”

“It’ll clean.” His arms were strong around her, demanding nothing, just offering support. He stroked her back in gentle circles, reminding her of the way she comforted Mandy. “Just relax. You don’t have to be a superhero all the time.”

She wanted to protest that she did, but it was so comforting to stand in his embrace, feeling the tension easing out of her at his touch. His lips brushed her temple.

That touch brought her to her senses. She sucked in a breath and drew back, still in the circle of his arms. “Sorry. I don’t usually do that.”

“You’re allowed.” His gaze probed. “Let me get this straight. You need the money from the sale of the property to pay for Mandy’s surgery.”

She nodded, pulling herself free and turning away from that intent gaze. “The insurance we have doesn’t cover a cochlear implant.”

“If you waited on the surgery until you’re in better shape financially—”

“No.” Again her tone veered upward, and she fought to control it. “We’re not going to wait. The longer Mandy goes without the implant, the harder it will be. She starts school in September. I have to give her every chance at a hearing life. I have to.”

“Okay.” He probably hoped that calm tone of his would soothe her. “Seems like the first step is to get a plasterer in here, ASAP.”

She was glad he’d given her an excuse to be annoyed with him. “I never thought of that.”

He grinned. “Sarcasm will get you nowhere, lady. It just so happens one of my high-school buddies recently took over his father’s plastering business. I’ll call him.”

“He’ll probably be booked solid. They all are.” It had taken her weeks to find someone, and Ryan proposed to do it with a single call.

“Trust me, he’ll fit you in. I know too much about him for him to say no to me.”

Hope flickered in spite of her doubts. “That would be wonderful.”

“Looks like it’s a good thing I stopped by today, although I didn’t have plasterers in mind.”

“Why did you come, then?”

“I thought you’d want to know.” His smile broadened. “I got the call. I’ve been assigned to the arson squad on a probationary basis.”

“Ryan, congratulations. That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, it is. I didn’t realize how much I wanted this until it came through. I’m going to be working with Garrett North. He’s tough, but he’s the best.”

He was as enthusiastic as a kid with a new toy, and she couldn’t help smiling with him.

“I take it you’ve told your family. How are they taking it?”

He waggled his hand. “So-so. Not as bad as I thought, actually.”

“That’s good. I’m really happy for you.”

“Well, there’s something you should know before you get too happy.” The sudden serious turn of his expression made her nerves tighten in response.

“What is it?” Something told her she wouldn’t like his answer.

“I’ve been assigned to my first investigation. It’s here.” He gestured. “Your fire wasn’t an accident. It was arson.”

Chapter Four

Laura could only stare at Ryan, her mind slowly processing his words. The fire here. Arson.

She finally found the words. “Someone deliberately set the fire? That’s impossible.” She couldn’t believe it. He had to be wrong about this.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear news like that. Nobody does.”

She was shaking her head, as if that would change his opinion. Groping for another explanation.

“You said yourself that the construction debris was a hazard on the back porch. Remember? It must have been an accident.”

It must have been, because the alternative was too frightening to think about.

“Look, let’s sit down and talk about this.” He touched her arm, nodding toward the stairs. “You’re having a lot of stuff thrown at you lately. I’m sorry to add to it.”

He sounded like Bradley Potter with his list of bad news. She shook off the thought. Unlike Bradley, Ryan was just leveling with her. She ought to appreciate that, even if she thought he was wrong.

She let him pilot her to the stairwell, and they sat on the worn wooden treads. Deep burgundy stair carpeting, she thought automatically. She’d already picked it out.

But she couldn’t waste time daydreaming about something that was already done. She had to face this new problem rationally.

“What makes you and this other investigator think it was arson?” She didn’t even like saying the word, with its implication of malice.

“We know an accelerant was spread around the porch.” He said the words slowly, as if to be sure she understood. “It leaves traces.”

“An accelerant.”

“Probably paint thinner.” He glanced toward the open paint cans in the front room. “Do you have any around?”

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