Happily Ever After (18 page)

Gulping back the painful emotions that filled her throat, Mona pulled away from Brian. She had to gather her senses, focus,
stay in control. Brian’s words had the power to unravel her.

Mona clenched her fists and stared at her burning Victorian. A white spotlight from the fire truck illuminated the tragedy.
The black smoke and the orange-red blaze made the house appear like a fright-night spook show.

Her chest constricted with the horrible truth: it was time to concede defeat. Gritting her teeth, she folded her arms, fought
a violent tremble, and watched her dreams burn.

“So no one can vouch for you this evening, is that right?”

Joe ran a hand through his singed, dry hair and flinched. Rip. His dog was the only one who knew the truth. He reluctantly
shook his head.

Chief Sam looked grim.

“C’mon, Chief. Think about it—the weed killer, the water in the basement. I’m not responsible for this. There’s a saboteur
out there.” Joe held out his hands and gave a hopeful, pleading look.

Chief Sam scratched his chin. “I don’t know, Joe.Considering your situation, I want to believe you, but it isn’t looking good.
Not unless you can find due cause and a reasonable perpetrator.”

Joe stared at the chief, liking him despite the awkward situation. After a moment of disbelief, Chief Sam had easily accepted
Joe’s credentials, laughed ruefully, and put them on a first-name basis. Under different circumstances, Sam might be a guy
Joe would seek out for a morning of angling or a quick game of hoops. He hoped the chief was a man who could keep secrets.

“Help! Get this mutt off me!” The cry pierced the murmuring crowd, the hiss of the water hoses, the shouts of firefighters,
and found Joe’s ears. He frowned and scanned the darkness.

“Help me!”

Sam whirled, now hearing the desperate plea. He cast a glance at Joe. “Stay here,” he ordered, but Joe was on his heels as
Sam ran toward a man stumbling from a neighboring backyard. A small, milling crowd gasped and parted like the Red Sea. Joe
skidded to a halt, horrified to see Rip attached to the man’s calf. The Lab was growling and blood stained his lips.

Chief Sam steadied the man as Joe wrapped a hand under Rip’s collar. “Let go, Rip!”

The dog responded with another growl.

Joe tightened his grip. “Let go!”

Rip grudgingly released his victim. He backed up, sat down, and whined. Joe ran a hand between the dog’s ears. “Stay.”

The man collapsed into a heap, clutching an ugly wound. He glared at Joe. “I’m gonna sue you into bankruptcy,” he snarled.
Joe surveyed the man’s appearance and his gaze hardened. Besides the black coveralls and a ski mask pushed back on his head,
the gassy odor seeping from his gloved hands cultivated a hearty suspicion.

“Who is he?” Joe asked as Sam crouched beside the man, giving him a stern once-over.

“Leo Simmons. He works for the City Park Department.”

Joe glowered at the man and wrinkled his nose. “You stink.” He glanced at Sam, who met his gaze and nodded. “Good work, Rip,”
Joe whispered.

Leo Simmons cursed his way to the police cruiser, threatening Rip, Joe, and quite a few people Joe didn’t know. Joe followed
him, battling the urge to free his steel hold on Rip’s collar. Sam led Simmons into the passenger seat of a cruiser, retrieved
a first-aid kit, and crouched beside him. Joe’s immediate frustration dissolved into respect as Joe watched Chief Sam work
his suspect with the savvy of an inner-city detective.

“Sorry about the dog bite, Leo. We’ll get you fixed up in a second.”

Leo’s lined, sour face softened at Sam’s words. He glared at Joe. “The mutt ought to be shot.”

Sam nodded. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now I want to know what you’re doing here.”

Leo responded with a grin of well-rehearsed surprise.“I’m just down pickin’ up a few supplies for the wife, Chief. Ain’t a
man got a right to shop for his family?”

“Sure he does. But why the ski mask? It’s early May.”

Leo’s face turned granite.

Chief Sam stood, surveying the fire as if he hadn’t noticed Leo’s expression. “I hate to add this, but you smell like you
bathed in gasoline.” He returned his gaze to Simmons. “It’s not looking good.”

Simmons studied his fingertips. “I’m not saying anything. I know my rights. I want a lawyer.”

Joe watched the man and tightened his grip on Rip’s collar, thinking how much he’d like to join his dog in a collective lunge
at the saboteur. The fire hissed behind them as the Deep Haven VFD saturated the last rebellious flames on the house and the
garage. The pungent smell of wet char fueled Joe’s frustration. He shot a piercing glance at Sam, who answered him with a
spiked eyebrow and a nearly indiscernible shake of his head.

Joe sent a prayer heavenward as Chief Sam knelt before Simmons. “Tell you what, Leo. You tell me why you’re in town, dressed
in black, reeking of gas fumes and hanging around a house fire, and I might be inclined to help you out of this fix.”

Leo’s face colored slightly at the chief’s words.

“I’ve known you a long time, Leo, and other than a few reckless-driving citations, you usually stay on the right side of the
law. I’m inclined to believe your story, if you tell it to me straight.” Chief Sam’s eyes were gentle. Joe felt as if he were
watching a wood-carver whittling away a man’s hard shell to find the treasure inside.

Simmons buried his face in his hands.

“Cindy and the boys would sure like to see you back at home tonight.”

Joe saw the man’s shoulders begin to shake. He could barely make out Leo’s ragged voice. “I didn’t have a choice, Sam. It
wasn’t my idea.”

“Tell me who’s behind this, Leo,” Sam prodded.

Simmons surrendered to sobs. Sam gave Joe a look that told him how he felt about seeing a man crumble.“You’re free to go,
Joe.”

Mona shivered in the sopping grass as mud soaked into her fleece sweatpants, watching the smoky apparition gnaw on her dreams
and consume her hope. The fire had crawled along the gutter and invaded her bedroom—where she had been unconscious earlier.
If it weren’t for Joe, she’d still be inside, unaware of the specter inhaling her lace curtains. For a fleeting moment, she
wished she still lay blissfully unconscious on her bedroom floor. Smoke inhalation. How painful could that be? Certainly less
so than waking up to find her future literally reduced to ashes.

Who had attacked her? She ached in places she didn’t even know she had hurt during the struggle, but nowhere more than in
her confused heart. Had Joe snuck up behind her, strangled her, then set fire to her home, only to drag her from the flames
moments later? Doubt raged through her. She’d seen the pain in Joe’s eyes when she’d accused him of starting the fire, pain
she’d now inflicted twice in one day. Most of all, she remembered the sheer agony on his face as he dragged her from the house.

“Don’t look,” he’d whispered in a wretched tone. She was appalled to realize that, as soon as she caught her breath, she’d
pounced on him.

She wiped her eyes now and searched the darkness for the police cruiser, then froze in horror. She’d seen Joe being interrogated
by Chief Watson, and now the chief was handcuffing a suspect. Mona buried her head in her arms and shuddered—Brian was right!
She bit her lip, but it couldn’t restrain the anguish of knowing that a man she trusted, a man she thought she could even
love, had betrayed her. She should have known better than to open her heart. At least she’d been wise to rebuff Joe the past
few days . . . just think where she’d be if she’d let herself fall completely for his charming, deceitful smile.

Mona turned her attention back to the firefighters, watching them through a liquid haze. The fire, finally extinguished, sent
a fog of steam into the night sky. The local volunteers, decked out in gray fire-retardant jackets and black rubber boots,
were dousing the house, dragging hoses through her wild roses and trampling the hosta, drowning the porch and, with her luck,
her polished coffee bar and sanded end tables. Thankfully, the new sofa had yet to arrive. She could cancel the order and
save herself the hassle of returning it. A fine, airy mist settled over her. She lifted her face to it; the moisture mingled
with her sorrow.

A crowd had gathered in the unpaved lot next to the house, a fistful of gawkers and speculators in bathrobes. She heard murmuring
and some clucks of pity, but Mona refused to turn around and acknowledge the disaster to their faces. It was bad enough she’d
lived down the appearance of the plumbing truck, the exterminator, and the numerous deliveries from Frank’s Hardware. They
knew the truth as much as she: The Footstep of Heaven Bookstore and Coffee Shop was a failure.

She searched for Liza, thinking it strange her friend wasn’t also sobbing beside her in the grass. When she spotted Liza nestled
safely inside Brian’s embrace, a shard of jealousy pierced her. Liza had chosen correctly. She had seen Brian’s shining-knight
character while Mona had picked a saboteur. Her gaze drifted back to Chief Watson, loading the culprit into the squad car.
Well, at least Joe Michaels was out of her life. He wouldn’t be around to do her, or her heart, any more damage.

“Are you all right?” A worried voice sliced through her despair. Mona lifted her gaze and gaped as Joe squatted beside her,
his sooty arms hanging over his wet knees, his blue eyes studying her with palpable concern.

She glanced back at the police cruiser. “I thought . . .”

“I know what you thought.” Mercifully, he looked away, but Mona’s heart tore anyway.

“I-I don’t understand,” she stuttered.

Joe met her look with troubled eyes. “I’m not sure I do either. But I think Sam and I found your saboteur.”

“Sam? Since when are you on such friendly terms with the local law?”

“A guy from the park department.”

“I don’t know anyone from the park department.”Her voice broke into a moan. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, Joe. I should have never let myself believe you would hurt me. I should have trusted you.”

Joe looked away and ran a hand through his hair. When she saw a muscle pull in his jaw, she felt physically ill. She’d hurt
him much more than she’d realized.He said nothing but remained hunkered down in the grass next to her.

Silence passed between them while shame colored Mona. Was it too late to repair the damage she’d done to their friendship?
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated weakly.

Joe finally met her eyes, and the tenderness in them made her want to cry all over again. “I forgive you.”

She looked away, blinking back tears, letting his kind friendship comfort her. If only she had been able to hold on to her
dream as well . . . perhaps she might have found a little touch of heaven in Deep Haven.

“Your dream isn’t crushed, Mona. I think we caught it in time,” Joe said gently, as if reading her tortured thoughts. “I’ll
have to sleep in the truck, but the house still appears structurally sound. We’ll see in the morning. Please don’t give up.”

Her sweet moment turned bitter as she hung her head and mentally refuted his words.

He cupped her chin with a grimy hand and forced her to meet his gaze. “It’s going to be all right.” The compassion in his
tender eyes made her long to climb inside his strong arms and hold on tight.

Mona closed her eyes. It wasn’t all right. Joe’s innocence was the only good news in the tragic evening. She had to face the
brutal reality. God didn’t want her to have the Footstep of Heaven. She didn’t want to know why. She just wanted to stop fighting
Him. Maybe there were lessons to be learned in defeat.

“Nope. I give up. The Footstep of Heaven is gone.”She heard Joe sigh and she opened her eyes. The expression on his face baffled
her . . . sorrow perhaps, or maybe agreement. He frowned, as if he were about to argue, but Mona shook her head. “I’ve had
enough. God is trying to tell me something—the Footstep of Heaven Bookstore and Coffee Shop just isn’t meant to be.”

She turned her gaze back to the house. It looked so wounded in the moonlight, the fire-engine spotlight adding to its sickly
pallor. In the backyard, the skeletal remains of Joe’s steps and his charred apartment reminded her that he was homeless and
now probably penniless. The odor of melted plastic and charred wood turned her already soured stomach. She spied some of the
firefighters folding their long gray hose into even sections; others wandered to the scattered remnant of spectators, weaving
tales of bravery and exploits. The mob behind her began to disperse.

“By the way,” Mona murmured into the watery padding of midnight, “thank you for saving me.”

Joe stared at the house, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw his eyes fill with fierceness, a certain flicker of determination
she’d seen before, just before she’d plunged over the waterfall.

Then Joe moved close and did what she was hoping he’d do. He wrapped his arms around her and cocooned her in an embrace she
didn’t have the strength or desire to fight. She laid her head against his chest and wept.