A Firefighter's Promise. Patricia Johns
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his chair.
“You’ve applied to be fire chief in South Maitland,” he went on. “And obviously we’re taking your application seriously. You’ve put your time in, and you’re well respected.”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
“Your résumé shows that you’ve worked your entire career right here in Haggerston.”
“I grew up here,” Matt replied.
“What drew you to apply to South Maitland, then?”
“I’m ready for the next challenge,” he said. “And the next step isn’t always available in your backyard.”
“Was it a difficult choice?”
Matt knew what Mr. Bernard was asking—was he going to regret moving across the state and leaving his hometown, his family and his memories behind. The truth was, he wasn’t just willing to go; he needed to go. There were things that he needed to escape, and this job in South Maitland was going to be his salvation.
“Not at all.” Matt shook his head and gave an easy smile. “I’m ready to move on.”
Mr. Bernard smiled. “Glad to hear it, son. So tell me what makes you the right man for the job.”
Matt exhaled slowly, then shrugged. “I’ve been working toward this step for the last five years. I’ve been working on my certifications and my management degree for longer than that. This has been my career goal all along. I love what I do. It’s not a job, it’s my life, and I think that matters.”
“And the move across state doesn’t pose any complications for you?”
“None.” Matt pushed back his chair. “What strengths are most important to you in this hiring process?” It was time to ask a few questions of his own.
“Leadership, flexibility, integrity—” Mr. Bernard nodded slowly. “We also want to step up the community connections with the fire department. The last fire chief, who is retiring, didn’t work directly with school or community groups very often, and we’d like to find someone who can provide that personal connection.”
Matt had suspected as much, and he felt a surge of reassurance that he’d met Rachel when he had. God had a way of sorting out the details, and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks. If they needed someone who could work with school groups, then he’d just have to buff up his skills—pronto.
“Are you hungry, Mr. Bernard?” he asked suddenly.
“Well, I—” The older man cleared his throat and smiled. “I could think about lunch.”
“My treat. There’s a diner down the street and we could continue this over the best burger in Montana. Let’s call it a working lunch.”
“Sounds good to me.” The older man smiled and patted his belly. “It’s getting to be that time, isn’t it?”
Matt rose to his feet and came around the desk to meet him. As Matt opened the door, Rachel’s voice filtered from down the hallway as she talked with her son in the reception area.
“Thank you so much for showing us around, Firefighter Johnson,” she was saying. “It was nice of you to take the time.”
Matt led his guest down the hall toward the door. Rachel and Chris stood with Firefighter Johnson, saying their goodbyes. As he reached the reception desk, Matt gave Chris a friendly grin.
“Hi,” Christopher said quietly, and Rachel’s gaze flew back in his direction.
“Hi, buddy,” Matt said. “Did you like the tour?”
The boy shrugged.
“We did,” Rachel answered for him. “Thanks. Come on, Chris. We’d better get going.”
They all stepped outside together into the warm July sunlight, and Matt glanced in the direction of his crew, who were parking the fire truck in the middle of the sunny drive, ready to go through the daily inspection checklist. Mr. Bernard angled his steps in the direction of the truck, but Matt hung back. Rachel tugged the elastic out of her hair, and her dark waves swung down around her shoulders. The effect was drastic, her dark eyes framed with raven hair, and her pale complexion seeming even milkier with the contrast. She gave Matt a polite nod.
“Mrs. Carter—”
“Call me Rachel.”
“Rachel.” He smiled. “Is there anything you need to help you settle in?”
“No, no, that’s not why I’m here.” Her smile evaporated. “I’m fine. It’s all under control. We’re just about settled.”
“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Look, you mentioned helping out a bit around here—”
“Absolutely.”
“Considering that you’re a teacher—” he glanced down at Chris “—and a mom, you’re probably my resident expert on kids. I’m not good with school groups, and I’d really like to buff up my skills. Do you think you could help me out?”
“I’d love to.” A smile broke over her face, and he was momentarily taken aback by the transformation. She was stunning.
“I’ve got your number.” He patted his front pocket. “Do you mind if I use it?”
“Not at all.” Her dark eyes sparkled.
I love that smile. Again, not the most appropriate thought at a time like this, and Mr. Bernard was headed back in their direction.
“I’ve got to get going,” he said, nodding in Mr. Bernard’s direction. “But I’ll give you a call.”
“No problem. I’ll see you later.” She raised her dark eyes to meet his, then turned her attention to her son. Matt raised a hand in a wave as Rachel and Christopher walked down the pavement toward a white hatchback sedan that had seen better days. Chris looked back at him once with an unreadable expression and Matt couldn’t help feeling that he’d unwittingly let the boy down. He wasn’t the hero that Chris was looking for.
He wasn’t the hero anyone else had been looking for, either, and the biggest reminder of that hard fact was Broxton Park Elementary School.
The school was opening again, teachers were being hired and life was going to continue. He understood that it had to, but something inside him just couldn’t move on with everyone else. That fire had done more than gut a school; it had taken the life of a little girl named Natalie Martin—a little girl he’d done his utmost to rescue. He couldn’t forget that soot-streaked face, so ashen and pale, or the ragged sobs of her parents, who stood on the sidewalk outside the flaming building clinging to each other.
Haggerston would never forget Natalie, but it would move on. Matt would never forget Natalie, either, but he wouldn’t be able to move on here. There were too many memories around every corner, and he knew the answer—South Maitland.
Sometimes God provided healing, and this time, Matt was pretty sure God was providing escape. Maybe healing could happen with some distance.
* * *
Rachel dropped the rag back into the sudsy bucket and leaned back on her heels. Renting Grandma’s old house from her aunt had seemed like the perfect solution when she moved back to Haggerston, but she hadn’t factored in the sheer amount of elbow grease it would take to clean the place up. Rachel looked into the freshly wiped kitchen cupboard and nodded in satisfaction. The 1950s farmhouse kitchen still sported the same teal paint from its early days when her grandmother had set up her own home as a newly married woman. The whitewashed walls, now less than white, contrasted with the teal cupboards, and a big, old-fashioned sink dominated the counter space. A Formica table of the same faded teal held buckets and cleaning products, but under it all, Rachel recognized that familiar, sunny kitchen.
“I always did love Grandma’s house,” she said.