A Firefighter's Promise. Patricia Johns
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wordlessly raised his hand in a wave, and Matt turned back to Rachel.
“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?”
Rachel paused, uncertainty flickering deep inside her. This felt too familiar already, too intimate, and dating was the furthest from her intentions. She had a little boy who needed some stability right now, and this handsome firefighter didn’t exactly fit into her plans for some peace and quiet. Besides, she’d been married to a firefighter once already, and loving him as she had, she’d promised herself that she’d never marry another one. She didn’t think she could handle losing another man she loved to the perils of the job.
“Why don’t we meet you at the restaurant?” she countered.
He nodded. “Sure. Does Chris like pizza?”
“Yes!” Chris hollered from the window above, and Rachel chuckled.
“You have your answer there.”
“Great. Alphonzo’s Pizza is on the corner of Main Street, right across from the drugstore. Do you know the place I mean?”
Rachel held up her phone. “I’ll find it with my GPS. How does six o’clock sound?”
“Perfect. See you then.” He shot her a grin, then ambled back toward his truck. With his hand on the door handle, he turned back and called up to the second-story window, “Chris, they’ve got ice cream, too. Just saying.”
Rachel smothered a laugh and watched as Matt hopped up into the cab of the white pickup, a red fire-department seal emblazoned across the side. The vehicle roared to life and he pulled away from the curb. As she turned back toward the house, Rachel stopped short when she saw her aunt standing in the doorway.
“You startled me.” She chuckled. “I didn’t know you were there.”
“I know.” Louise raised an eyebrow teasingly and turned back into the house. “Handsome young fellow, isn’t he?”
“He’s a firefighter, Auntie. It’s not going to happen.”
“I always liked firefighters... So did Grandma,” Louise pointed out with exaggerated casualness.
Rachel rolled her eyes and followed her aunt indoors.
“I know, I know...”
And so it starts, she thought wryly. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that a town filled with aunts, uncles and distant cousins would never sit idly by and leave her business alone. That was too much to ask.
As Matt pulled away, he glanced back at the old house. It needed paint—and a lot more—to look decent again, but he could already see the spark of a family in the old place. Stacks of boxes were visible in the windows, and a pile of cardboard sat outside the garage. If memory served, the big oak tree in the front yard used to have a tire swing that all the neighborhood kids made use of, and he idly wondered if Rachel would put up another one for Chris. Maybe he was already too old for a tire swing. Matt wasn’t exactly in the know when it came to kids. He was the kind of relative who gave his cousins’ kids cash when he saw them because he could never quite remember their birthdays and wanted to make sure he covered his bases.
Matt glanced at the old houses on either side of the street, flower gardens in bloom. A few of the homes sported American flags, rippling proudly in the summer wind, and he sighed. If he got this job, he had to admit, he would miss Haggerston.
His cell phone rang, and he glanced down at the number as he slowed to a stop at an intersection. It was his brother. Matt put the phone on speaker, tossed it onto the seat beside him and eased the vehicle forward again.
“Hi, Craig,” he said.
“Hey, how did that interview go?” his brother asked.
“Really good. They’re taking me seriously.”
“Fantastic.”
“But that wasn’t the most interesting part of my day,” he admitted.
“Oh, yeah?” Craig pried.
“Do you remember that time a few years ago when a baby was dropped off on the doorstep of the firehouse?”
“I think so.”
“Well, he’s back.”
“The baby?”
“Yeah.” Matt chuckled. “Well, he’s about seven now. His adoptive mother moved into town, and they stopped by the firehouse to say hi. I guess she wanted to show him where he was found.”
“How’s the kid doing?”
“Okay.” He paused. “Maybe not so well. His mom says that her husband died a few years ago, and the kid only recently found out that he’s adopted, so that’s been pretty hard on him.”
“Ouch. I’ll bet.”
“So I stopped by their place to—” Matt cringed. This still sounded very much like a date. “I asked them out to dinner.”
“Is that a good idea? They just moved here, and you’re planning to move on.”
“Not like that,” Matt grumbled. “I know how it sounds. I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to Chris, and I wanted to chat with him a bit. His mother seems to think it will help.”
He signaled at the next stop sign and took a left toward the main road. The houses in this direction were smaller and the yards not as well tended. He knew several of the people on this street, however. Living his entire life in one town had that effect.
“And what about the mother?” his brother pressed.
“What about her?” Matt dodged.
“Still single?”
“Yes, still single,” he replied. “And before you ask, yes, she’s pretty.”
“Aha.”
“Oh, cut it out.” Matt laughed and slowed for another corner. “She’s the widow of a firefighter from Billings, so I feel like I owe her something. It’s not romantic, I swear.”
There was a muffled voice in the background, and then his brother came back. “Gloria’s inviting you to our place for dinner,” Craig said. “Are you interested? I could pop another steak on the barbecue.”
The thought of a barbecue steak made Matt’s stomach rumble, and he chuckled. “Twist my arm, man. I’m on my way. Can I pick up anything?”
“No, we’re ready to go. Just get down here, because I’m hungry.”
“Okay, I’m ten minutes away.”
Matt hung up and smiled ruefully. He’d miss his brother and his wife, too, if he moved out of town. Craig and Gloria had him over for dinner about as often as he’d let them. He begged off more often than not, preferring to give them time to themselves, being newlyweds and all.
He eased forward again and glanced toward the squat elementary school. Brand-new play equipment sprawled on one side of the building, a green field on the other side. A sign in front of the building announced student registration days and encouraged everyone to “Find adventure in reading this summer.” The scars from the fire were cleaned away, and this September, Broxton Park Elementary would reopen for the first time since that tragic day.
He had no idea what anyone else saw when they looked at that building, but in his mind’s eye he still saw the billowing smoke pouring out of broken windows. He still heard the frightened screams of children, the wail of sirens and the desperate, clinging questions of the parents standing in shocked groups on the sidewalk.
He’d fought fires for most of his adult life, and the very thought of a blazing inferno only got his adrenaline pumping and made