Hearts on Fire (2 page)

“Perhaps, but I didn’t want to leave it to chance.” Hastily wiping unwanted moisture from her eyes, she refused to back down. “She was frightened. If you’d been with her, she wouldn’t have needed my assistance.”

The look he turned her way made her tremble. He towered over her, but he didn’t scare her. She’d faced bigger, meaner demons and lived to tell about it. This one was only dangerous because of the pretty packaging—blue eyes, dark hair, lean muscular build, and a midday shadow hinting at an overabundance of testosterone. Coupled with the angel in his arms, he was lethal to Shannon’s well-being.

“Lady, I don’t need or want your parenting advice.” The low rumble of his voice sent shivers of awareness down her spine while his adversarial tone struck at her resolve. Once, she would have cut him down to size with a comeback, but the sassy, take-no-prisoners woman she had been was dead and buried. All she wanted these days was to live her life with no hate, no conflict. One day at a time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you aren’t a good parent. Meggie is safe. That’s what matters.” Saying it out loud served as a reminder for herself, too. The child’s dad might not be the best parent, but seeing the way the little girl clung to him, the love between them was clear.

“Daddy. Daddy.” The child patted her father’s cheek, drawing his attention. Shannon’s heart ached at the sweet innocence on display. “Don’t be mad no more.”

“Anymore, sweetheart. Don’t be mad anymore.” His big hand nearly covered the girl’s back as he supported her so they were eye to eye. “Did I tell you not to move?”

“Yes.” The curls of her ribbon halo bounced up and down with the motion of her head. “But—”

“No buts. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.”

“The nice lady saved me. Chuck almost stepped on me.”

“He wouldn’t have squashed you, bug.” The big man tweaked his daughter’s nose, causing her to giggle and wiggle in his arms. “How did you know it was Chuck?”

“He said, ‘Move, squirt,’ just like he always does.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you moved. Chuck has big feet.”

“The biggest!” Meggie held her arms out wide. “Monster feet.”

Shannon laughed at the child’s ferocious growl. “Chuck?”

“Captain Charles Heflin. He’s my boss and my best friend.”

“You’re a firefighter?” Shannon’s skin tingled. She took a step back, willing the unreasonable fears to go away. It had been years. She should be over it, but deep in her heart, she knew some part of that night would always be a part of her. She could never forget.

“Steve Rankin, Engine Company Number Three.” He shifted his precious burden to his left arm and stuck out his right hand for her to shake.

Shannon hesitated, then, chastising herself for a fool, reached across the table displaying her hand-woven fabrics. His hand engulfed her smaller one. His skin was warm and calloused, his grip firm. Her heartbeat raced at the contact. It had been a very long time since she’d touched a man. Not since…before.

She hated the way her life had been cleaved into two halves—before and after. Before seemed almost like it had happened to someone else, except in times like this when she brushed up against a family. Then the before part of her life became all too real—it haunted her. That was the reality of after. Living day to day, putting one foot in front of the other, getting out of bed, feeding herself, existing until something or someone reminded her of who she used to be.

“Shannon Perry.” She extricated her hand from his. “You were the one trying to put out the fire.”

“I tried to contain it until help arrived.”

“I’m sorry to have worried you. I saw your daughter…. I-I couldn’t leave her there.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. You were only trying to help.”

“I was. Meggie is a beautiful child. If I’d known the circumstances—”

“You wouldn’t have done anything differently.” He eased the little girl to the ground. “Megan should have told you where I had gone, but I’m sure she had other things on her mind.”

Little fingers stroked the display of scarves draped over the edge of the table. Shannon pulled one from the pile, unfolded it and spread it across the top so the child could see it. “This one is perfect for your coloring.”

“It’s so pretty.” The girl’s breathless admiration for one of her creations tugged at Shannon’s heart.

“It’s yours, Meggie.” She held it out. “Take it to remember your day at the faire.”

“Ms. Perry, I’m afraid—”

“My gift, Mr. Rankin. A thank you for your quick response to the emergency as well as allowing me to get to know your daughter.”

“These must be expensive.” His gaze darted to the back of her stall where the smallest of her looms added authenticity to her booth.

“The value is in my time, and I’ve got lots of time.”
Nothing but time. Endless time
.

He stared at Shannon until his daughter’s dancing drew his attention. Wrapped in the color-blocked swath of fabric, Megan Rankin looked like a sprite on Midsummer’s Eve, her face alight with laughter and the spirit only a child possesses. Shannon fought to remain detached even though she knew the fight had been lost the moment she saw fear in the little girl’s eyes from across the way.

“Please, let her accept the gift.” Shannon turned away rather than let him see the tears in her eyes.

“What do you say to Ms. Perry for the gift, Meggie?”

“Thank you so much!”

Shannon patted her face dry with a handkerchief she’d rescued from a flea market then turned. “You’re welcome, Meggie. I hope the scarf brings you years of joy.”

The sprite danced away from the booth, her gaze coming back to her father every few seconds. Shannon thought her heart might split in two, watching the precocious child spin and jump as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Thank you.” The deep voice broke into Shannon’s thoughts, bringing her crashing back to reality. She had the impression the two words were meant to say more, but nothing about the man’s expression backed up her thoughts.

“You’re welcome.” Shannon wrapped her arms around her midsection and moved to the deep shadows in the back of the booth.

The father and daughter duo disappeared from view a few moments later, taking the sunshine with them.

~~~

“Be good for Grandma.” With one last hug, Steve lowered Meggie’s feet to his mother’s kitchen floor. “Maybe she’ll bring you by the station later.”

“Can we, Grandma? Please?”

Working thirty-six hour shifts was difficult, but having his daughter visit, even for a short time, helped get him through. Meggie loved the firehouse, or maybe she just loved his co-workers. Every time she came by, they spoiled her rotten, letting her do everything from helping wash and polish the fire engines to baking cookies. They extended the favor to all the firefighters’ children, but none seemed to appreciate the attention the way Meggie did.

“You have to help me in the garden first. Then, if there aren’t any emergencies, we’ll stop by later.”

He could always count on his mom to put balance in his daughter’s life.

“Call before you come. I have a few things to follow up on today, so I’ll be out for a while.” He didn’t usually follow up on fires, but he couldn’t get a certain earthy woman out of his head. He’d been too harsh on Shannon Perry the day before. In retrospect, he decided she’d acted responsibly, sheltering his daughter from what could have turned out to be a dangerous situation. If the faire goers or, God forbid, the horses scattered around the area had panicked, Megan would have been in real danger. He owed the woman an apology.

CHAPTER THREE

He located the fortune teller’s booth easily enough. Pending a determination of the cause of the fire, the charred remains were untouched. As he stood there assessing the damage, the older woman he recognized from the day before approached.

“Such a tragedy.” Her thick accent sounded as fake as her fortune-telling skills. “I’ve lost everything.” She shook her head in dismay, her springy black hair swinging from side to side like a cloud of smoke.

“Not everything,” he said, pointing to the one object still recognizable in the rubble. “Looks like your crystal ball survived.”

“Oh! I see it!”

Steve grabbed her arm, stopping her from wading into the ashes. “Wait! You can’t go in there dressed like that.” He waved a hand at her velvet slippers embroidered with gold thread.

“But I must have my crystal ball,” she cried.

He’d read the report this morning. There would be no more inquiry into the cause. The old woman admitted to leaving an illegal candle burning inside the tent while she went to a nearby bank of portable toilets. The official cause was negligence, which in his mind proved the booth owner a fraud. If she could tell fortunes, wouldn’t she have foreseen the tragedy and done something, like extinguish the candle, to prevent the fire?

“Stay here,” he admonished. “I’ll get it for you.”

The glass orb was covered in soot, but otherwise appeared untouched by the flames. Using a rag from his backpack, he cleaned the object as best he could before handing it to the owner.

“Thank you, sir.” She held the heavy piece of glass in the palm of one hand while rubbing it reverently with the other. “You are the young man who came to help yesterday.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“You tried, and for that, I am extremely grateful. It could have been much worse.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have had a real candle burning, and you really shouldn’t have gone off and left it unattended. The whole faire could have burned to the ground.”

She had the good sense to appear contrite. “I know, but those flameless candles don’t provide the same atmosphere as real ones. It’s hard enough getting people to believe. Providing the right ambience makes people more receptive.”

“I just bet it does,” he muttered. What little tolerance he had for the charlatan wore thinner by the minute. He turned, intending to escape before he said something that might get him in trouble if it got back to the department.

“Wait!” A wrinkled hand on his arm stopped him. “Don’t go. Let me read your fortune—as a way to thank you for what you did yesterday. You weren’t able to save my booth, but you kept the fire from spreading. I owe you a great debt.”

Silently praying for patience, he faced her again, hoping he would find some polite words to replace the ones running through his head. The pleading expression on the woman’s face made him feel like a jerk for thinking bad thoughts about her. Hell, she was probably someone’s grandmother, looking for a way to supplement her Social Security check. He could afford a few extra minutes to humor her.

“Okay. You tell me what your crystal ball says about my future, and we’ll call it even.”

He followed her to a sprawling oak tree behind the row of vendor booths where she’d spread a rug that looked to have been around longer than the century-old tree shading it. She sat, motioning him to join her. When he did, sitting cross-legged in front of her, she placed the glass orb between them.

“Concentrate. Focus on the center of the crystal ball.” She demonstrated, bending over to peer directly at the heavy object.

“Don’t you need to know my name or something?”

“No. You’ve touched the ball. It knows all there is to know about you.”

“Too bad it didn’t know your tent was going to burn down.”

“Perhaps it did, sir. Everything happens for a reason.”

“What’s the reason for a fire that could have caused massive damage and loss of life?”

“Ahh, but the only damage occurred to my tent,” she reasoned. “Perhaps the fire was necessary to bring you to me. You wouldn’t have come otherwise, would you?”

And expose Megan to a transient liar and cheat? Hell, no
. “No, I wouldn’t have stopped at your tent.”

“There’s your answer. The message the crystal ball holds for you must be very important.” She took a deep breath before placing her hands on the ball. “Focus on the crystal, sir. Open your mind to possibilities.”

Steve glared at the fortune-teller. Her eyes were closed while she made woo-woo sounds and waved her hands around. He barely contained his laughter. Absolutely ridiculous, but entertaining. He could see why people paid for a reading. The spectacle was worth a few bucks.

“You aren’t concentrating.”

“I am,” he lied. Tearing his gaze from the show, he leaned down and stared into the ball.

“Yes,” she whispered. Her hands stilled in midair. “Do you see it?”

“See what?”

“Your future.” Suddenly, she bent over, cradled the ball in her hands, and stared at it as if it were the most interesting snow globe ever. “There’s a woman—”

“Oh, no, there’s not.” He had a few female friends he thought of as fuck buddies, but there was no woman, and there never would be.
Been there, done that, have the daughter to prove it.

The charlatan continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “She needs you. She’s been wandering for a long time, but she wants to come home. She desires you, but she isn’t sure she can settle. The freedom of the road comforts her.”

Theresa.

“You must convince her to stay, to put down roots again, to trust, to love.”

No way in hell.

“You need someone to love you, to make a home with you and your daughter. You desire this woman. Open your heart to her, and you will see she is everything you want and need.”

“Wait.” Steve snapped out of whatever spell she’d woven over him. “How did you know about my daughter?” He had buddies on the police force. If this crazy woman had been anywhere near his family, he would have her locked up for good.

“The crystal showed her to me.”

“Like it showed you my ex?” He stood, not caring who witnessed his angry outburst. “Stay away from me, and stay away from my daughter!”

The old woman struggled to her feet. “The woman…she is not your former girlfriend. I know nothing about this person you speak of. This woman is in your future. She is very important in your life. You must not let her get away.”

“Lady, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but the last thing I need or want in my life is a woman.” He towered over her, his patience and goodwill dissipating like summer rain on hot concrete. “Did Theresa put you up to this? Is she here?”