Fireproof (26 page)

“I hope your parents are doing well.”

“I'll tell you what, Mrs. Evans—that new wheelchair and bed are certainly helping.”

“I'm so glad. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I'm gonna be taking my mom on a short trip—and then, hopefully, a longer one after that.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Evans said. “Sounds like fun.”

“That's the plan. Are you a
Wheel of Fortune
fan?”

“The game show? I love it. But I don't usually get home till it's over, and anyway I'm no good at those puzzles. My mind just doesn't work that way.”

“That's the thing. My mom's a whiz at it.”

“Mrs. Campbell's a sharp cookie, all right. Many people assume that if someone can't talk, they must not be too bright. You know, my grandma used to tell me it was the other way around. She said it was right there in the Bible somewhere—Proverbs, I think—that a person of few words is wise.”

“Well, it's true in my mom's case.” Catherine propped her purse on the counter. “I can't wait to tell her about the surprise. See, I signed her up for the Wheelmobile that travels around. It's gonna be in Atlanta soon, and they use it to let contestants audition for the show.”

“But I heard they have lines out the door. Are you sure you—”

“She's gonna get a chance. Guaranteed.”

“Oh, you don't want to get her hopes up, Catherine.”

“It's guaranteed,” Catherine repeated. “As manager of PR at Phoebe Putney, I was able to get ahold of one of the show's associate producers. I pitched an idea for a segment featuring physically handicapped patients from around the country, and he loved it.”

“They're gonna do it?”

Catherine smiled. “It's airing in two months.”

“Oh my goodness.”

“The best thing is that they're gonna match the contestants' earnings with donations to their chosen charities.”

“That's wonderful.”

“My mom will have to go through the preliminary steps like any other contestant, but her application's already on the short list for Atlanta. She's gonna get her big chance, spelling out guesses on her chalkboard.”

“Well, this
is
exciting news.” Mrs. Evans patted Catherine's hand. “Let's get her all stocked up for the trip, shall we? But, of course, that's why you're here.”

“You know, all I really need are a few more linens to fit her hospital bed.”

“Sure. We have some in stock.”

“It's about the only thing that wasn't covered by the doctor when he purchased that bed and wheelchair.”

“The doctor?”

“Yes. Dr. Keller, our secret philanthropist.”

“Uh, I don't think Dr. Keller covered those things.”

“No, I'm sure he did. I spoke with him about it.”

Mrs. Evans thumbed through her files. She removed a receipt and looked it over. “Mrs. Holt, if I remember correctly, twenty-four thousand three hundred dollars was given for the bed and wheelchair, but Dr. Keller was not the main giver.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Oh yes, his initial donation was used to
start
the fund in your mother's name, but of the amount given, Dr. Keller gave just three hundred dollars.”

Catherine took a step back. She was shaking her head, going down a mental list of the few others who even knew of her mother's specific medical needs. This couldn't be right. She had thanked the doctor. He had accepted that thanks.

“Then who gave the other?”

By Mrs. Evans's expression, it was clear she thought Catherine should already know. “Your husband,” she said. “Caleb.”

Catherine exhaled. Her fingers went numb as she took the paper and verified the information for herself.

Caleb?

“He came in about two weeks ago and paid for everything,” the receptionist assured her. “I assumed you knew.”

“Two
weeks
ago?”

“Yes. He told me not to tell anyone, but I didn't think that included you. It was the Tuesday before last. He called and asked what the price of a particular bed and wheelchair were, so I looked it up and . . .”

Catherine had turned and started walking. She was stunned.

“Mrs. Holt?”

Catherine could not speak. She pulled a hand to her chest.

“Are you okay?”

Catherine kept going, her chin quivering, as she pulled both hands over her mouth and her vision blurred behind a veil of tears.

SHE WAS SURPRISED to make it home without a major collision. She couldn't stop the tears from flowing, and her cheeks burned with the stains that now also marked her blouse. Afraid of running over Caleb's mountain bike or driving straight through the garage wall, she braked hard in the driveway.

The truck was gone. Caleb was on duty right now.

“Good,” she blubbered. “I can't let him see me, not like this.”

Catherine dumped her purse on the kitchen counter and found her gaze drawn to their wedding photos in the hallway. Seven years ago, Caleb Holt had declared his love for her, but in the time that'd elapsed, things had faded—just like these pictures would fade; just like she and her husband would wrinkle with age.

Something had happened, though. Caleb had changed.

The old Caleb would've made some snide remark about how her fever would go away if she just got out of bed.

The old Caleb would've stormed from the room after she told him she needed time.

The old Caleb would've never depleted his entire savings to buy medical equipment for his mother-in-law.

She found herself reflecting over the past forty-five days. His sarcasm had vanished, and kindness and helpfulness had taken its place. The computer that she had grown to hate so much had been destroyed. He'd even kept on his ring while his hand healed from a burn. But this . . . this was unmistakable.

He had sacrificed his money. His boat. His dream.

For her.

Catherine wondered if she, too, could change. She wanted to.

Desperately.

Reining back her sobs to mere whimpers, she stumbled across the carpet to her room—
their
room. She opened the top right dresser drawer and fumbled through her clothing. In her mind, she could hear her husband's voice on their wedding day, his vows washing her in promises that sounded heartfelt. She thought she'd found Prince Charming, but it turned out he was just a regular guy.

And wasn't that all she really wanted?

Someone to have and to hold. A man, a lover, and a friend.

Someone who knew her inside and out, strengths and weaknesses—and loved her anyway.

Caleb was that man. He had kneeled at the edge of their bed only days ago and shown renewed faithfulness to her. In his patience and brokenness, he had demonstrated manliness beyond anything a silly dress shirt and tie could do.

She slammed the drawer shut.

“Oh, where
is
it?”

She snatched open the left drawer. It had to be here. Her fingers slid along the bottom edges, brushing aside garments, and—

There . . .

Her wedding ring.

She took it in her hand and eased it over her finger. She was shaking. Each tear caused new sparkles to radiate from the diamond's princess cut. It fit as it always had, and she crossed her hands over her chest, overwhelmed by waves of sudden joy and regret.

Oh, Caleb—will you still take me?

She brushed her hair back past her earrings and stared into the mirror at her tear-streaked face. She was a mess. She smiled at the ring glistening on her finger, and she wanted to shout her love for her husband from the rooftops, but how could she do so looking like this?

Of course, that realization sent her spiraling into another whirlpool of weeping. What was
wrong
with her?

Laughing? Sobbing? Happy? And sad?

A total mess.

“Ohhh, stop crying,” she scolded herself out loud. She pulled a brush through her hair. Tried to apply fresh makeup. What a catastrophe this was. “Stop it,” she told herself again. “Stop! You can't . . . keep . . . crying . . . like this.”

CHAPTER 37

A
pot of water simmered on the kitchen stove, while a jar of spaghetti sauce waited on the counter. Lunch was on the way. In the meantime, Caleb insisted they spend a few minutes around the table, going over the material for their upcoming written exams. Sure, the physical testing was behind them, but the mental challenges could be equally taxing.

“We're gonna nail this,” he told the guys.“Okay, Eric, you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Explain RECEO.”

“Uh-oh,”Wayne said.

Terrell covered the study book with both hands. “He ain't gonna get it.”

“RECEO: Rescue, Exposure, Containment, Extinguish, and—”

“Captain.”

Caleb turned at Lieutenant Simmons's strident tone. Between the exams and the continual array of possible emergencies throughout the city, he felt his pulse spiking.

“Yes?”

“Can I see you for a minute?”

“Right now,Michael?”

“Yes, sir.”

Caleb pushed away from the table, leaving the books to the boys. He approached his lieutenant and tried to quell the worry in his voice. “Is something wrong?”

Simmons squared his shoulders. He said,“Catherine's in the bay.”

“
My
Catherine?”

“Yes, sir.”

Caleb's eyebrows knotted as he studied Simmons's face for a clue or an explanation. The lieutenant remained stoic, nearly motionless. Caleb would have to investigate this on his own. He brushed past and exited through the side door. He walked down the hall toward the bay entrance, his mind racing.

Was this a bad thing? Catherine had stopped coming to see him here years ago.

But maybe . . .

Caleb pulled open the door to the bay and entered. He was standing at the edge of the vast room, his eyes blinded momentarily by sunrays streaming from his left. As his pupils adjusted to the interplay of shadow and light, he saw a silhouette.

A moment of déjà vu.

Standing thirty feet away, his wife was a vision in a necklace and a red summer dress.

The
dress.

Tied at the waist, her mini-sweater was the same one she'd worn ten years earlier, the day they'd first met here at this same spot.

His heart lurched.

“Catherine?”

She stood wringing her hands, rocking slightly on her feet in a pair of simple flats. Gone was the corporate fashion. This was the woman he had first fallen in love with—not that he minded her professional air, but she'd often held that up as a shield between them.

The shield was down.

Through watery eyes, she said, “Caleb, if I haven't told you that you are a good man . . . you are.”

What? Did she just say what I think she said?

Wearing a tender, humbled expression, she continued. “If I haven't told you that I've forgiven you . . . I have.”

Caleb felt his heart tremble within. Could this really be happening?

She took cautious steps toward him, and he followed suit, closing the gap to twenty feet. But she wasn't done.

“And,” she said, “if I haven't told you that I love you . . . I do.”

The words sank deep inside him, and his throat tightened.

“Something has changed in you,” she continued, her voice fragile and soft. “And I want what happened to you to happen to me.”

He found himself drawing closer. Only ten feet apart.

“It can,” he answered tenderly.

“Is it too late . . . ?”Catherine held up her hand, revealing her wedding ring. “To ask you to grow old with me?”

He filled his lungs, about ready to explode. His heart seemed to shout:
Go to her, Caleb!
He could wait no longer, and he ran to join her in the middle of the bay, embracing her small waist and lifting her on tiptoes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and she felt so warm and smelled so good he wondered why he'd ever thought he could belong anywhere else.

With the sun carving out their joined forms, Caleb looked down into her deep brown eyes and felt himself falling in love all over again, falling deeper than before, with a love built on something stronger than both of them.

And he kissed her.

Catherine responded with a soft purr, the one she shared only with him, and kissed back with lips even softer than he remembered.

LIEUTENANT SIMMONS HAD witnessed many wondrous things in his life. He'd watched a miraculous rescue on a battlefield in Iraq. He'd seen the sun set over three different oceans, not to mention various towering mountain ranges. He knew beauty when he saw it, and he tried his best to give God the glory.

As for what was happening in the bay . . .

Now,
that
was beautiful.

Simmons stood at the side door, peering through the narrow glass panel and feeling his mouth widen into a huge smile. He threw both hands up in a cheer. “Yes!
Yes!
”

“Hey, man,” Eric said, coming up from behind.

“Lieutenant,”Wayne joined in. “Whatchu lookin' at?”

Simmons spun around and blocked the windowpane with his body. “Hey, back up. Back up. There ain't nothing to see here.”

Terrell came forward with a knowing grin. As for the two white boys? They looked completely mystified. Wayne was craning for a glance, but got rebuffed. Eric kept asking what was going on out there.

Simmons remained steadfast, nudging them from the door. “Go on back to your business. Caleb's just in there starting a fire.”

“What?” Wayne demanded. “What's he startin' a fire in the bay for?”

“It's not
that
kinda fire. Now, go. Back to your business. Hey!” He corralled Terrell. “Don't be thinking you get a peek. Man, I'll put you on cleanup duty.”

CHAPTER 38

T
his was pure torture. A fireman on duty could not leave work except to handle official department matters, and now, after experiencing the most powerful moment in his married life, Caleb had to watch his precious wife head home while he finished his shift.