Firefighter Daddy (18 page)

“I’m sorry. What does she have?”

“A kiln. It’s a pottery studio.”

“Oh, I see. Can you see flames coming from any part of the house?”

Looking for flames meant looking over the edge.

You can do this.
The smell of fear actually stabbed her nostrils. No, that was smoke. She sneaked a peek over the edge of the balcony. Real smoke! It was pouring out from the basement window and the garage door that led to the backyard. The house really was on fire, and the smoke was coming from the basement. It had to be the kiln, which meant this was her fault. Had she lost track of time, missed the timer, and forgotten to check the kiln? As she turned the phone to double-check the time on the display, it slipped out of her hand and she watched it fall, as if in slow motion. She was unable to react. The phone hit the balcony floor, bounced once and skittered toward the edge.

Miranda grabbed it before it disappeared. With an outstretched arm, she held it up to her and Rory reached for it with a hand that was shaking so badly, she almost dropped it again. She tightened her grip on the phone. It was their only lifeline, and she had almost lost it.

Miranda looked up at her expectantly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She wasn’t, though. Even her voice sounded shaky.

“We’ll be all right. My dad will come.”

The operator’s voice was buzzing through the phone. Rory held it up to her ear. “Sorry, I dropped the phone.”

“That’s okay,” the woman said, still sounding every bit the voice of reason. “Can you tell me what you’re seeing?”

“No flames, but there’s smoke coming through the downstairs windows, and there was definitely smoke in the stairwell.”

“I need you to stay calm,” the operator said in a buttery-smooth voice that was obviously intended to be reassuring. “You’ve done everything you can. The first truck should be there in a minute or two.”

And not a minute or two too soon.

“How’s the child doing?”

She was still focused on the cat, kneeling next to Buick in a pink cloud as though she didn’t have a care in the world. “She’s fine. We’re both fine.” Except for being in these ridiculous dresses.

“Good. I’ll stay on the line with you till the fire department arrives.”

“Thank you.”

Miranda jumped to her feet, bumping into Rory and knocking her against the railing.

Rory grabbed her hand. “Sweetie, please be careful!”

“Listen!” she shouted. “A fire truck. Can you hear it?”

Rory’s knees sagged. Miranda was right. The siren came to a stop in front of the house.

Two firefighters emerged from the walkway between their house and the one next door. One of them was Mitch. He shouted an instruction to someone, but his watchful gaze stayed on them. Rory realized she wasn’t afraid to look down, even from this height, because he was there.

“Daddy!” Miranda waved vigorously.

“Hang on, princess! I’m coming up for you.”

His take-charge tone was reassuring, and she knew that as soon as they made sure the stairwell was safe, he’d get them out of here.

Several more firefighters appeared, carrying a ladder.

No. No way could she climb down a ladder. Not from this height.

“Miss Sunshine?” Mitch’s daughter was gazing up at her, concern suddenly written all over her face.

“Yes?”

“You’re hurting my hand.”

“Sorry.” She loosened her grip on the slim little fingers, but kept a determined grip on the handrail.

“It won’t be that scary.”

“What do you mean?”

“Going down the ladder. The day you moved in you told Grams you were scared of high places.”

Rory had been fantasizing about being a wife and mother, and now she was being comforted by the very child she had imagined herself parenting.

Miranda gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ll be okay.”

Rory squeezed back and tried to concentrate on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Shallow, even breaths. If Miranda could do this, so could she.

The firefighters were extending the ladder.

In. Out. Slowly. Hyperventilating now would not be good.

Mitch and another firefighter were both looking up at the balcony. From the sound of things, another fire truck had pulled up out front, engine roaring and siren screaming. All the smoke alarms in the house were blaring. Buick was still yowling and Rory wanted to scream.
I cannot climb down a ladder.

Maybe they should have gone down the stairs instead of coming out here. Better yet, if they had stayed downstairs, they could have made it out the front door. But then poor old Buick would have been trapped upstairs. She’d heard of heroic measures to rescue an animal, but what if they didn’t get to him in time?

The ladder jolted against the balcony railing and the entire platform shook.

Miranda leaned over the railing. “Here comes my dad!”

The ladder shook and bobbed slightly with every step he took. Rory’s stomach rolled itself into a tight little ball.

Mitch’s worried face appeared.

“Daddy! I knew you’d get us.”

He reached over the railing and hoisted his daughter into his arms. Each movement reverberated through the balcony floor and traveled up Rory’s body.

“Buick’s scared,” Miranda said to her father. “So’s Miss Sunshine.”

His cryptic expression concealed whatever he was thinking about them being out here in bridesmaid dresses. “Give me the cat,” he said.

She passed the carrier to him and waited for his next instruction. “Is my mother in the house?”

Rory shook her head.

Mitch relayed that information into the radio clipped to his shoulder.

“I’ll wait here while you climb over the railing.”

Rory shook her head.

“You okay?” Mitch asked.

She shook her head again, closed her eyes and concentrated on not throwing up.

“She’s scared of heights,” Miranda said.

“Stay calm,” Mitch said. “I’ll be right back.” He clipped the handle of the cat carrier to his belt and disappeared with Miranda and Buick, leaving her up there alone.

He didn’t come back, though. Another firefighter, someone closer to her father’s age, appeared a moment later. “We need to get you down from here.”

She nodded but otherwise couldn’t bring herself to move.

“I’ll need you climb over the railing. Nothing to worry about. I’ll be holding on to you the whole time.”

She gathered up the dress, crammed her phone into her pocket, and tried to swing one leg over the railing. This was not going to work.

“Can you take the dress off?”

“No!” She was not disrobing up here and climbing down a ladder wearing nothing but a bra and a pair of blue jeans.

“Then turn one of those plant pots over and stand on that.”

She did what he asked.

His voice was calm and soothing, and he didn’t stop talking even when she was over the railing and had both hands and feet on the ladder. “Once you get the feel of how far apart the rungs are, you can close your eyes if you like. I’m right behind you, and you’re going to be okay.”

She silently talked herself through every step and when she finally reached the bottom, she had never been so grateful to feel solid ground beneath her feet. Now she just had to face Mitch.

Chapter Thirteen

The firefighter who had helped Rory down the ladder directed her to the front of the house and she quickly complied. Mitch stood there and Miranda was still in his arms. The cat carrier sat on the sidewalk and Buick was still vocalizing his indignance.

“What the hell happened?” Mitch asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you leave something on the stove?”

“No. Of course not.”

Miranda wriggled in her father’s arms. “Put me down, Daddy. Buick is scared. He needs me.”

He slowly set her on the ground, but Rory could tell he was reluctant to let her go. She promptly knelt beside the carrier, the hem of the pink dress puddling around her on the ground. Rory hoped she wouldn’t trip on it.

“Your mother went to teach a class at the community center and she asked if I’d stay with Miranda. We went upstairs to my apartment for a while, then we heard a smoke alarm downstairs. I could smell smoke in the stairwell, so we went out on the balcony.”

Mitch was shaking his head. “I’ve asked her not to take advantage of you.”

“She isn’t! I love spending time with Miranda.” She glanced down at the little girl, who was trying to soothe the irate cat by petting him through the wire door.

“I’ll bet the kiln started the fire,” Miranda said.

Mitch’s eyes narrowed. He gripped her arm and led her a few steps away so Miranda couldn’t hear them. “Why does she think that?” he asked.

Rory had been working up to that, but the child beat her to the punch. “Your mother had pots firing in the kiln. Before she left, she set her kitchen timer to remind me to run downstairs and make sure it shut off.”

“So what were you doing in your apartment? And what’s with this…” He gestured at her dress. “This ridiculous getup.”

“We went up to my apartment so I could put my groceries away.” She wanted to tell him she was planning to make dinner for him tomorrow, but this was not the time.

“And you forgot to check on the kiln.”

“I didn’t!” How could he even think that?

“Instead of putting your things away and going back downstairs, you decided to play dress-up.”

“Your mother set the timer for five o’clock.” Rory tapped the face of her wristwatch. “I didn’t forget about it. It’s
still
not quite five. I was keeping an eye on the time and we were going to go back downstairs before the timer went off.”

He obviously didn’t believe her. “You should have stayed downstairs in the first place.”

Excuse me?
She could understand his concern for his daughter’s safety, but his anger with her was totally unjustified, especially since she and Miranda were okay. It was as if he was looking for an excuse to blame her for more than the fire. And now she was just as angry as he was. “This was
not
my fault. The fire started somewhere in
your
part of the house, not mine. I got Miranda and Buick outside, I called the fire department, and as you can see, we’re all fine.”

Another firefighter approached them. “Looks like it started in the basement, Mitch. You’re sure there’s no one else in the house?” he asked Rory.

“I’m sure.”

Mitch told him he needed to stay here and keep an eye on his daughter, and he said it in a way that implied he couldn’t trust Rory to do it. The other man briefly filled him in on their plan of attack, then disappeared down the walkway.

Mitch glanced over at the cat carrier and a worried look instantly replaced his angry one. “Where’s Miranda?”

“Right over—” No, she wasn’t. The carrier was open, and the child and the cat were gone.

“She must have let Buick out and chased after him when he ran away. I’m sure they haven’t gone far.”

Mitch sprang into concerned-parent mode. “My daughter’s disappeared!” he shouted to one of his colleagues. “I’m going to look for her.”

“I’ll look, too,” Rory said. “We should split up, though.” She lifted the green skirt and dug her keys out of the pocket of her jeans. “I’ll take my van.”

“Go!” Mitch said. “I’ll get one of the police officers to go with me.”

Rory hadn’t noticed the police cruisers, but now that he pointed them out, she could see that several of them had blocked the street to keep the gawkers at bay. She left him talking to the police, grabbed the cat carrier and rushed to where she’d parked on the street. Luckily, none of the fire engines and other emergency vehicles had blocked her in. She started the engine, released the hand brake, let out the clutch and lurched away from the curb.

Where to look first? Knowing Buick, he would take the path of least resistance, and that was downhill.

She coasted to the end of the block, stopped and looked both ways. No sign of Miranda. One block farther, she stopped at the Panhandle. She clicked on the right-turn signal and glanced left to check for traffic. Miranda, unmistakable in the pink dress, stood under a tree.

Rory swung left, slammed on the brakes to avoid missing a honking car, then sped the wrong way on the one-way street toward the child. Miranda gave her a frantic wave.

She climbed out of the van. “What are you doing here? Your dad and I were worried sick!”

“I’m sorry, Rory. Buick was crying ’cause he was so scared. I opened his cage so I could pet him, but he ran away. I followed him but I couldn’t catch him and then he climbed up this tree and now he won’t come down.”

Sure enough, Buick was perched on a branch, one of the lower ones but still out of reach. She flipped her cell phone open. Who to call? “Do you know your dad’s cell phone number?”

She punched in the numbers as Miranda recited them. After several rings, her call went to voice mail.

“Mitch, I found her! We’re down at the park, along Oak Street, and Buick is stuck in a tree. As soon as I get him down, I’ll bring them home.”

Now what? She walked around the tree, looking for a branch that was low enough for her to climb. No such luck. Poor Buick. He was completely stubborn when he got scared like this. He wasn’t up that high, though, and he’d ended up on a branch that extended over the sidewalk. She looked around for something to climb on.

“I have an idea,” she said to Miranda.

F
ROM THE FRONT PASSENGER
seat of the police cruiser, Mitch scanned the front yards and cross streets they passed. They
had
to find her. He couldn’t let himself consider the alternative. How could Miranda have disappeared without him seeing her leave? If he hadn’t been so caught up in arguing with Rory, he would have been watching her. That sounded as if he was trying to blame Rory, and that was unfair, but he needed to blame someone. His mother’s house was on fire, his daughter was missing, and until a few minutes ago he’d been thinking that he was falling in love with the woman who was responsible for this crazy situation. All the fear he’d struggled to suppress since losing Laura now threatened to overwhelm him.

His cell phone buzzed inside his pocket, letting him know he had a message. He pulled it out, recognized Rory’s number and listened to the message.

“They’re on Oak Street, down by the park.” Relief surged through him.

The police officer flipped on the lights and they sped down the hill. The cruiser turned the corner, and there they were.

“What the…?” The young officer stopped himself before he said the very thing Mitch was thinking.

Rory had pulled her van up on the sidewalk under a tree. Miranda stood on the grass next to the van, and Rory had climbed onto its roof and was reaching into the tree.

Buick. Mitch had forgotten the cat was missing, too.

They pulled up next to the van and left the lights flashing. Mitch leaped out, rushed around the cruiser and swept his daughter into his arms. “You should have told us you were going after the cat. Rory and I would have helped you look for him.”

“You were mad and I knew I shouldn’t have opened his cage and I thought I could catch him but he kept running and running.”

“I wasn’t mad at you, princess.”

“You were mad at Rory.”

Rory. The zany woman in the green bridesmaid dress was still standing on the roof of her van, trying to coax her cat out of the tree. The cat was just out of reach.

He put Miranda down and led her over to the police car. “Stay in here and
don’t
move.” Then he went around to the side of the van and tried to get Rory’s attention.

She was having nothing to do with him.

“Would you come down and let me get him for you?”

She glared down at him. “I can manage.” She had streaks of black mascara under her eyes. Had she been crying?

“He’s spooked. I can probably reach him if you let me climb up there.”

Rory relented, although he could tell it was grudgingly. She ignored the hand he held out to her and slid off the roof without his assistance.

He would get her to come around, but this wasn’t the time or place. He vaulted himself on the van, hoping his weight didn’t make a dent in the roof. Rory had already set the carrier on the roof and now all he had to do was wrestle the cat into it. A pair of glittery green eyes offered up a challenge.
Think again, you grumpy old cat. I am
not
in the mood.

He got a firm grasp on the freaked-out feline, lifted him off the branch, and scooted him into the cage before he had a chance to react. With the door securely latched, he passed the cage down to Rory and leaped to the ground.

She set the cage on the passenger seat, climbed in behind the wheel, and slammed the door. “Thanks.”

Probably best not to mention that the dress was hanging out beneath the door. “I’ll see you back at the house?”

“Sure.”

She drove away, bumping the van off the curb as she left. He’d performed several bizarre rescues in his career, but his daughter, a treed cat and a deranged bridesmaid? This was definitely a first, and he sincerely hoped it would be the last where these three were concerned. He watched her disappear around the corner, then returned to the police car.

On the ride back to the house, he realized he hadn’t tried to contact his mother and he didn’t know the number of the community center. Maybe he could get Rory to run over there and tell her what had happened. But when they reached the house, the flower-painted van wasn’t there. He had no idea where Rory had gone, but she hadn’t gone home.

“Would you mind running us over to the community center?” he asked the police officer. “I need to drop off my daughter with my mother.”

T
HE MORNING AFTER
the fire, Rory was back on Annie’s sofa. Buick was sound asleep by her feet, as unfazed by the fire and their dramatic third-floor rescue as she was rattled by them. And Mitch had rescued him twice.

If Rory had slept at all, it had been badly. She was distressed about the fire and felt sick for not doing a better job of protecting Miranda, but mostly she was devastated by Mitch’s anger. In spite of Annie’s assurances that he would calm down once he realized this wasn’t her fault, she was overwhelmed by the feeling that their relationship was over.

To add insult to injury, a neighbor had filmed the rescue, including her descent in the green bridesmaid’s dress, and had sent it to a local television station. Her phone had started ringing soon after it aired.

Jess had caught it on the TV at the bar and had called Nicola, Paige and Maria. They’d all called Rory, as had several of the teachers she worked with. Then the school principal phoned to say he had already arranged a substitute so Rory could take off as much time as she needed. Just as well, since all her clothes were still in her apartment and all she had here were her jeans, the undergarments she’d been wearing, and the stupid green satin dress.

Later that evening, Betsy had called Annie, who relayed the information that other than the smoke that had filled the house, the damage was pretty much restricted to her studio in the basement. They wouldn’t know until today when the house would be habitable again, but Rory would be able to retrieve some of her things. Betsy’s insurance would pay for the clean-up.

Do you want to live there?
Not if Mitch wanted to end things. From the day she’d moved in, she should have listened to her own advice. They lived in the same house, he was the father of one her students and he was still grieving the loss of his wife. She had known that a relationship with him would get complicated, and she had been right. After Annie had gone to bed, Rory had indulged in a good old-fashioned sob fest. Now, between that and lack of sleep, her eyelids felt puffy and gritty.

Her cell phone rang and she grabbed it from under a pile of balled-up tissues on the floor, hoping it wouldn’t wake Annie. It was her father.

Her throat tightened and her eyes went watery. “Hi, Dad.”

“Your mother called me last night to tell me about the fire. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

His concern reminded her of being a kid who was finding out that her parents were on the road to divorce—again. “It’s good to hear your voice, Dad. I’m so glad you called.”

“So, are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You sure, sugar? You sound pretty shaky.”

She felt more like a tremor on the San Andreas Fault. “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you know how the fire started?”

“In the basement.” She told him how she’d been taking care of Miranda and that Betsy had asked her to check the kiln, and then the floodgates opened and the whole story poured out. She and Mitch had gone to the wedding together, spent the next day with Miranda, she had loved being part of a family. But he blamed her for the fire, and she didn’t know how she could possibly face him again. Her perfect life had turned into a complete disaster.

“The poor guy was probably in shock, Rory, especially after having to rescue his daughter from a burning building. He’ll come around once he’s had a chance to think things through.”

“I don’t know. Even if he does, I don’t think I can deal with this. We only dated for two days and we ended up having a big fight, with him accusing me of things that weren’t my fault. Sound familiar?” That last question had been a cheap shot. “Sorry, Dad. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you.”