Rescued By The Firefighter. Catherine Lanigan
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the room at the fear-filled wide eyes. No one said a word. No one was eating, pinching their neighbor, arguing or joking. They weren’t camp kids now; they were children floating through insecurity’s seas. The Kettering sisters held hands as Beatrice walked into the hall. Little Ricky stared blankly at his full glass of orange juice, though Beatrice perceived the tiny movements in his shoulders to be quiet sobs.
Eli wore a gauze patch over half of his left cheek, but he was the only child who ventured to smile at her. To his right was Chris, whose eyes were focused on the wall above Beatrice’s head. Eli reached for Chris’s hand, but Chris brushed him away and leaned back against his chair, folding his arms defensively over his chest.
Joshua Langsford was the only one who spoke, as he asked, “Does it hurt, Miss Beatrice?”
“A little bit, but nothing like what you’ve had to go through, Joshua.” She smiled. He didn’t smile back.
Every one of the kids clamped their eyes on Beatrice’s air boot. “So, here’s the scoop, guys. I broke a bone in my foot. I’m going to be fine. But for now, I have to wear this boot and use crutches when I’m outside or going up stairs to my cabin. I’m hoping the doctor lets me toss the crutches in a week.”
“Yeah, crutches help, but they’re a pain after a while,” Joshua said.
Beatrice’s cell rang. She looked at the caller ID and didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. She hit the decline button. “I’ll get it later. So, this is what I want you all to know. Last night was an accident and luckily no one was seriously hurt. What we need to focus on is the loss of trees.”
“The trees?” the kids said in unison.
“That’s right. Those trees were here when I was your age. I loved those trees. They were my friends when I didn’t have friends.”
Amazement and incredulity hung in the air as the kids leaned a bit closer, propped a chin on a palm or cocked their heads.
An adult revelation was rare to them, which made this moment all the more precious. Their hearts and heads were open to her and she hoped they felt her sincere caring.
“The Indian Lake Nursery has agreed to deliver over a hundred baby trees to us tomorrow. We’re all going to work together and plant these new trees to rebuild the forest.”
“But the ground is burned,” Ricky said.
“That’s the interesting thing. Did you know that ancient tribes used to purposefully burn the land in order to start new growth? The trees have cones filled with seeds that start new trees, but the cones only open with great heat. In one month, we may see little trees peeking up through the ground. It’s new life. A new beginning.” She paused to let the children absorb what she was saying. “We aren’t required to plant new trees, but I wanted you all to be part of helping to rebuild the forest. It’s sort of our way to put the past behind us, and to learn that out of every sorrow, every pain, there is something good and wonderful to be found. But you have to look for it. Work for it.”
The errant tear that rolled down Beatrice’s cheek didn’t let its presence be known until it hit the edge of her jaw. Only then, when she stopped talking, did she lift her fingertips to whisk it away. She’d never cried in front of camp children before. This was a first.
Then again, she’d never run headlong into a blazing fire to save one of her kids, either.
“For all of you who went to St. Mark’s last night, Father Michael phoned me early this morning and told me that you were the best group of kids he’s ever seen. You made me proud. Bruce and Cindy didn’t have to worry about any of you. You took an emergency situation and dealt with it calmly and respected those in authority. I couldn’t ask for more. Thank you to the older kids who helped the younger ones. Everybody pitched in. You’re all—” she looked directly at Chris and Eli “—the best group of campers who’ve come to stay with me. I hope you all come back next year and stay for a whole month!”
The room erupted in cheers and clapping. Beatrice’s heart swelled and she breathed in their affection.
They were so young, and though the night had been fraught with terror, they’d all grown from the experience.
“So, listen up, guys. Amanda has made a special breakfast for you all. Pancakes, bacon and baked cinnamon apples with oatmeal crunch. We have lots of homemade syrup from the Indian Lake Boy Scouts and plenty of butter. After breakfast, Cindy is taking those who signed up for kayak lessons to the lake. Bruce and Maisie are heading up baseball practice. Joshua? How’s the leg? You think you want to try some batting practice?”
“You bet, Miss Beatrice,” Joshua replied happily.
“Great!”
Amanda, Bruce, Maisie and Cindy entered the dining hall with trays filled with special breakfast plates. While the kids cheered, Beatrice’s cell phone rang again.
This time, she turned away from the dining tables and headed toward the door. Walking in her boot slowed her down enough that she could read the caller ID.
It was the same number that had tried to reach her previously.
Still looking down at her phone, she reached for the screen door to the outside porch. “Who in the heck is calling me?”
Then she ran smack-dab into a broad, rock-hard human chest. Beatrice wondered if she’d suffered a concussion. Not another trip to the ER! And what would that cost? “What?”
“I called,” Rand said. “You didn’t pick up.”
“I didn’t know it was you.”
“I gave you my card.”
“When?”
“Last night. Er, this morning. In the hospital.”
“Sorry. I was drugged. I mean, medicated.”
“I see that. We’re here about the investigation.”
Beatrice’s skin iced over as if the contents of her boot had thrown over her whole body.
She tried to remember that he was responsible for saving her, and Eli and Chris. He was handsome. And strong and heroic.
But Rand stood like a colossus in front of her, and at this moment he represented every fear that had festered in her head from the instant she’d smelled smoke. Her earlier resolve to go toe-to-toe with him faltered.
Ultimately, she was responsible for Eli and Chris being in that fire last night. Their safety was her obligation. She’d put them in harm’s way. Would Rand report to his superiors that the camp was unsafe? That she, personally, was at fault for the kids being out by themselves?
If Rand found one fault and declared her camp unsafe, the sheriff could shut her down, send the kids away and force her to make improvements. Not until a city inspector deemed the camp safe again, could she open. If Rand or his superiors declared her negligent, her state license could be revoked. She would lose more money than she could ever recoup.
And Beatrice’s dreams would be lost, too.
The fact that everyone was safe and alive didn’t matter, she realized. Rand was here to find fault. From the dour look on his face, she guessed that he believed she should be toe-tagged with the blame card.
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