The Forest Ranger's Rescue. Leigh Bale
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“Hi, Jill!”
Lifting her gaze, she looked past the blue pickup truck parked behind her car. Harvey Garson stood outside his grocery store across the deserted street, watering a clay pot filled with purple pansies. The bright flowers did little to hide the peeling paint of his shabby two-story building. Several empty offices lined Main Street, their vacant windows filled with dust and cobwebs. The poor economy hadn’t been easy on this community. The bank and county courthouse down the road were new, complete with tan stucco and wide garden boxes planted with yellow tulips. The only modern buildings in town.
Jill waved and forced herself to sound cheerful. “Hello, there.”
“You in town long?” Harvey yelled as water cascaded from the spout of his watering can.
She hoped not. But that depended on Mom and Alan, her younger brother by two years. “Just a few days, I think.”
“Hopefully we’ll see you at church on Sunday.” With another wave, Harvey set the watering can beside the flowerpot and slipped back inside his dingy store.
Jill released a sigh of relief, glad the conversation had ended. She hoped she wasn’t in town long enough to attend church. She was not staying in this one-dog town any longer than necessary. The dreaded third degree she received from old friends every time she came home was extra incentive not to stick around. You couldn’t expect much less in a place this size. Everyone knew everyone else and considered them family. They meant well, but she had no desire to share her life with them. Or explain about her adulterous husband and recent divorce. The pain still felt too raw.
Just then, Larry Newton, a boy she’d graduated from high school with, drove by and honked his horn. At the age of twenty-eight, he wasn’t a boy anymore. Not with a wife and two kids.
Forcing a smile to her lips, Jill lifted her hand. She couldn’t help feeling that true love and a family of her own had passed her by. After five years of marriage, she’d discovered her ex-husband had cheated on her. Not once, but many times. And then the harshest blow yet.
He’d said he never really loved her at all.
What a fool she’d been. So trusting. So naive. But no more. She was an educated professional woman with a special education career she loved. She didn’t need a man. She didn’t need anyone. Or at least, she kept telling herself that.
The cumbersome nozzle clicked off and Jill lifted it back into the holding bracket. With a few quick twists of her wrist, she put the cap back on her gas tank. She was determined not to let the cruelty of the past destroy her future. Determined to enjoy her summer break. Maybe being home was the distraction she needed. She wanted consistency in her life. Boring could be good sometimes. And nothing much ever changed in Bartlett.
Nothing except her.
Stepping past the melee of pumps and a tall garbage can, she headed toward the small convenience store to pay her bill.
“Evie! Wait!”
A man’s frantic yell drew Jill’s attention toward the store. Ignoring the man’s plea, a blond-haired girl who looked about six dashed from the store and into the driveway.
Out of her peripheral vision, Jill caught the streak of another car racing toward the child. Without thinking, she lunged into the driveway, scooped the girl into her arms and darted out of harm’s way just in time. The driver slammed on his brakes, his car squealing in protest. Jill stood sandwiched between two gas pumps, clutching little Evie to her chest. The driver, a teenage boy with sandy brown hair and freckles, glared his disapproval, then sped on past.
Jill stood there, breathing hard. The full impact of what had almost happened swept over her like a cold, drenching rain. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She tried to swallow, but a dry lump of cotton seemed to have lodged at the base of her throat. Her arms tightened around the little girl as she took a deep, settling breath. Trying to gather her thoughts. Trying to absorb that they were safe.
No harm done.
“Are you okay?” Jill asked against the child’s soft hair.
Evie didn’t speak. She fisted her hands around Jill’s neck like a vise and gulped air into her lungs, hyperventilating with fear. Something had really set her off.
Jill rubbed Evie’s back. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”
The girl didn’t draw back to look at Jill. Didn’t let go. Didn’t move.
Jill tried to set Evie on her feet, but she gave a pitiful whimper and held on tighter. She wrapped herself around Jill the way a baby gorilla hugs onto its mother. The girl’s thin body trembled, her breath whooshing in and out of her lungs like a panicked ventilator. When Evie tucked her face against the curve of her neck, Jill’s heart gave a powerful squeeze.
“Evie! Are you okay?” The man reached them, his startling blue eyes filled with panic.
Taking a deep inhale, he reached for the girl. Evie tightened her arms around Jill’s neck in a stranglehold. She wasn’t ready to budge.
Jill tried to pretend she didn’t see the guarded hurt in the man’s eyes, followed by an expression of vulnerability. If this was his daughter, Evie’s rejection must sting him pretty hard.
“She’s not letting go,” Jill told him, a self-conscious laugh slipping from her throat.
Taken off balance by the girl’s weight, Jill tottered backward. She bumped against a bucket sitting beside the gas pump. Grimy water sloshed over the sides. A squeegee for washing windows bobbed around in the brackish liquid.
“I’m sorry about this.” The man clasped Jill’s arm to steady her before whisking the bucket out of her way.
With Evie facing her and literally sitting in her lap, Jill slid down to the ground. She perched on the ledge of cement beside the two nearest gas pumps and tucked her sandaled feet back toward the island in case another car zipped past. The last thing she needed right now was a broken foot.
“Thank you for rescuing Evie.” The man scooped up Jill’s purse from out of the driveway and set it beside her. Then, he raked his fingers through his thick, dark hair, making it stand on end.
The light stubble on his blunt chin showed that he hadn’t shaved that morning. Not surprising, if he was a logger. But Jill knew almost everyone in town. This guy was new and she couldn’t help wondering who he was.
“You’re welcome.” Jill sat there, stunned. Not knowing what to think about this odd situation she’d been thrust into. Thankfully, as a special-education teacher, her work with autistic and developmentally disabled children in the public school system had taught her patience. Now that Evie was out of danger, Jill knew what to do.
“Why don’t we just sit here and catch our breath for a few moments?” she suggested.
The man stepped past the island and leaned one broad shoulder against a gas pump. He towered over her in awkward silence, shifting restlessly, as though he didn’t know what to do. Finally, he sat beside her and leaned his elbows on his knees. He stared at her sandals and pink-painted toes for several moments. His handsome mouth quirked into a nervous laugh.
“She hates gas stations,” he said. “I shouldn’t have taken her inside the store with me, but I couldn’t leave her out in the truck all alone.”
Jill had no idea why a gas station would cause such an adverse reaction in a young child. For all she knew, Evie was throwing a temper tantrum after her father told her she couldn’t buy a piece of candy. But Jill sensed it wasn’t quite that simple.
She turned her face toward the quivering child, speaking gently. “I hate gas stations, too. They’re usually smelly, dirty places.”
The man shook his head, his beautiful blue eyes creased with sorrow. He opened and closed his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite get the words out. Finally, he spoke quickly. “Actually, her mother was killed inside a gas