A Time to Gather
A Time to Gather
OTHER NOVELS IN THE SAFE HARBOR SERIES:
A Time to Mend
, Book One
© 2008 by Sally John and Gary Smalley
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Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION
®
. © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
John, Sally, 1951–
A time to gather / Sally John and Gary Smalley.
p. cm. — (Safe harbors ; bk. 2)
ISBN 978-1-59554-429-2
I. Smalley, Gary. II. Title.
PS3560.O323T55 2008
813'.54—dc22
2008022898
Printed in the United States of America
07 08 09 10 11 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1
Table of Content
For my neighbors on Aguamiel Road
“A man reaps what he sows.”
—Galatians
6:7
The Beaumont family
Max
—Married to Claire. Founder and owner of Beaumont Staffing, a nationwide staffing firm.
Claire
—Married to Max. Volunteer for community organizations and violinist.
Ben and Indio
—Max’s parents. Their grandchildren call them
Papa
and
Nana
. Their home, the Hacienda Hideaway, is a retreat center located in the hills above San Diego, California.
Max and Claire’s four grown children
Erik
—News anchor for a local San Diego television station.
Jenna
—High school English teacher. Married to Kevin Mason.
Danny—
Lexi’s twin. Software guru and surfer.
Lexi (Alexis)—
Danny’s twin. Gardener. Artist.
Others
Felicia Matthews—
Erik’s coanchor and girlfriend.
Rosie Delgado—
San Diego police officer.
Bobby Grey—
Rosie’s partner.
L
exi Beaumont trotted as best she could along the narrow, uneven path, her camera bouncing against her hip. The guy ahead of her—that would be the one with the long legs sprinting gazelle-like over the rough terrain—set their pace. As usual, keeping up with Zak Emeterio was a challenge and a half.
Not that she was complaining. Hanging out with him was the major highlight of any week. Or month, for that matter. Her achy quads over the next few days would remind her of their time together.
Oh, stuff it. She sounded like a bubblehead. The moony teenager phase had to stop.
Her big toe slammed the edge of a half-buried rock. “Yow!”
Zak spun around and caught hold of her flailing arms. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She smiled through a wince. “But ouch! That hurt.”
“I’ll slow down.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Way to hang in there, Short Stuff.”
Lexi groaned like a drama queen, although she didn’t really mind his nickname. He’d dubbed her “Short Stuff ” the night they met, his voice hushed and full of gratitude.
“You are amazing,”
he had said with a small smile, the whiteness of his teeth in stark contrast to his soot-covered face.
I can just imagine the headlines: Alexis Beaumont, aka Short Stuff,
leads three big, highly trained, half-wit firefighters to safety.
Grinning now, Zak let go of her arms, tugged the brim of his cap, and took off again. “We’re almost there!” he yelled over his shoulder.
Their destination lay in sight just a short distance below at the end of a steep descent to the lake. Lexi followed more slowly, placing her feet carefully on the packed dirt and embedded rock. She squinted against the sunlight, harsh in spite of her ball cap and shaded glasses, and took in the vista of the wilderness preserve through which they’d hiked.
Talk about amazing
, she thought. There they were, within walking distance of densely populated San Diego communities as well as a freeway, and yet total wilderness surrounded them. No sign of human life marred a 360-degree view of rock-strewn mountains and a tranquil lake. March wildflowers, a few trees, and native bushes grew on the hillsides. Hawks and turkey vultures soared lazily above. Egrets stood serenely along the water’s edge. Ducks and grebes paddled, squawking intermittently.
“Can you paint it?” Zak called to her.
She lifted her camera and shrugged. “It won’t fit.”
He laughed.
Painting wildlife was her favorite pastime. Well, second favorite, right after hanging out with Zak. She photographed subjects and worked from the prints. He didn’t know the first thing about art and wasn’t interested in it one bit. Sometimes, though, he connected the dots:
Lexi plus camera plus wildlife equals painting.
His efforts to enter her world zinged her every time—turned her to slush.
She stepped onto the outcropping where he sat. It was a fairly level stretch of rock that jutted out from the shore a few feet above the water, just large enough for the two of them. Adjusting the shoulder strap, she shifted the camera to her lap and sank cross-legged beside him.
“It’s coming.” He grinned like a kid in a toy store. “Hear it?”
“No.”
“Listen. It’s really faint.”
She waited in silence. Try as she might, no way could she tune into anything beyond her own booming, erratic heartbeat. Its cause had little to do with the two-mile hike up and down a craggy, sun-drenched trail.
On the surface Zak Emeterio met, in her opinion, every classic requirement for eye candy: tall, sculpted muscles, strong jaw, wavy black hair, eyes the color of Wedgwood—a winter-sky blue muted by the sheerest of clouds. Hands-down beautiful.
Beneath the surface he was a hero: kind, funny, smart, and a brave firefighter who saved lives. Hands-down knight material.
And he sat beside her, Lexi Beaumont, she of the mousy attributes from straight brown hair to khaki cargo pants to personality. Hands-down fumble queen of relationships.
Zak looked at her. “You okay?”
“Sure. A little out of breath. That hike was not exactly a breeze—”
“I mean this . . .” He waved an arm as if to encompass the two thousand acres before them. “This preserve reminds me of your grandparents’ estate.”
That would be the one the wildfire had ripped through the previous fall, the night she met Zak.
“Lex, from what you’ve told me, you never go there like you did before the fire. And I’ve noticed that you only want to jog with me at a beach or park.” His eyes, not shaded by sunglasses, studied her with obvious concern. “Really green parks.”
She averted her gaze toward the lake. “I don’t go there because it’s not like it used to be. Not because the vegetation is gone, but because my parents live there now. Nana and Papa live down the road and they float around like ghosts trying to pick up the pieces from their old life. It’s just too sad.”
His arm brushed hers and he took her hand.
Add big, strong hands to the list. She said, “I know, I know. Some hot, dry, windy day this place will burn. It’s nature’s way of cleaning house.” She looked at him. “But it’s springtime now. We had rain all winter and just last week. Things are blooming. We are sitting next to a lake. You’re with me. I am not scared.”
“If you were, it’d be understandable.”
“Zak!” She whined the syllable into three. “Sorry. Learned that trick from my sister.”
“Bzz!”
He mimicked a game bell. “Subject change not allowed. I’m taking your emotional temperature. Come on, don’t groan. I haven’t done this for a
long
time.”
Maybe because they hadn’t seen each other for a
long
time? Not that she was complaining. They were, after all, only friends, thrown together by fate, their shared fifteen minutes of fame used up ages ago.
“Come on yourself,” she said. “Give me a break. It’s been six months. I’m fine.”
“The impact of trauma goes on and on. The other guys and I are still talking to the counselor. He’s available to you.”
“I know. You told me before. Once or twice.”
“Or thrice.” He leaned nearer her and pulled off her sunglasses. “And I
will tell you again.”
“It’s different for you. You need to get your head on straight for work. You have to keep going into those situations. You fight fires for a living. I don’t.”
Humming a sigh, he rested his forehead against hers. “How are the nightmares?”
“Gone.”
“
Bzz
. Fibbing not allowed either.”
“Well, they are gone. Mostly. Only once in a while, when I’m overtired, and they’re not too . . . awful.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
“Yes!”
“Life is hard enough, Lex. We might as well ease what pain we can.”
“I’m fine.”
He jerked upright, his eyes wide. “It’s here!” He pointed to the mountain across the lake. “That way.”
Again Lexi strained to catch the sound. After a moment, it came. A deep rhythmic
whomp, whomp, whomp
grew louder and louder. Suddenly a helicopter burst into view. Like some prehistoric, monstrous bird it rose straight up from behind the mountain. Clearing the peak, it swooped down and shot directly at them, the roar of its engine deafening.
That was when Lexi knew she wasn’t fine. Nope. Nowhere near it.
T
error tasted like bile in Lexi’s throat. It smelled like ash. It thundered in her ears.
Still. Two hours after the helicopter had finished its display over the lake.