Home Fires (2 page)

Rose scowled at the ten-year-old sedan Irene refused to part with. No doubt about it. The two of them were going to have a come-to-Jesus meeting about buying a new car before she left town. Maybe after today her mother would be ready to see the light.

He squatted next to his pickup and examined the rear end. Rose kicked herself mentally and held back a sigh. He hadn’t been kidding about his vehicle. It looked like it still belonged on the showroom floor. Dollar signs ca-chinged in her head. There went her insurance rates. She should have paid more attention while driving. She should have listened to her mother’s words of caution. Rose took a deep breath and steeled herself for the news. “How bad is it?”

“You rammed the trailer hitch. Looks like it got a little scratched, but no big deal.”

“Thank God no one was hurt,” Irene ventured. “You can always buy a new car, but you can’t replace the people you love.”

He joined them on the sidewalk. “The tow truck should be here soon.”

“I suppose you called that in, too?” Rose said without thinking.

He cocked his head and flashed her a slow grin. “I did. The wrecker is on its way.”

She eyed the swirling lights atop his pickup. Streets up north were filled with vehicles touting light bars. Maybe he made his living plowing snow. Maybe he owned the wrecker service, too.

“Let me know when you get it to the shop.” Rose fumbled through her purse and fished for her wallet. “Will you take a personal check?”

“Nope.” He wiped the oily dirt from his hands onto his clean jeans.

“I’m not sure how much cash I have.” He had been a big help but this was no time to be playing games.

“I don’t want your money.”

He met her gaze head on with one eyebrow raised and a steady smile.

Rose straightened and pulled her purse strap tighter. Mr. Big-Truck should keep his eyes to himself instead of on her. Did he actually think she would flirt with him over a towing bill? If so, he had another think coming.

“I’ll give you my mother’s address. You can send the bill there and I’ll stop by your shop and pay it.”

“You will, hmmm?”

“Isn’t that what I said?” She swallowed down a flash of impatience. “Just tell me where I can find you.”

The beginning of a smile tugged at his mouth. “Okay, if that’s what you want. You’ll find me down at the fire station next to City Hall. You’re welcome to drop by… but only if you want to say hello.”

“What—?” She sputtered as her fingers gripped the soft leather of her wallet.

“He said he doesn’t want your money, sweetheart. Isn’t that right, young man?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His face relaxed as he nodded at Irene. “Just doing my job.”

Rose shifted on her feet. “But I thought you—”

“Owned the wrecker service? Not me,” he said, nearly laughing now. “I’m a fireman.”

She wanted to melt right into the pavement. After three years of practicing law, she knew better than to pass judgment on face value. A fireman. That explained the brilliant white and red lights swirling emergency warnings from the top of his pickup. She made a rapid reappraisal of the stranger beside them.

A fireman, a public servant—dedicated and committed, willing to help when needed, whether on or off duty. And from the look of his crisp jeans and dark blue t-shirt, he wasn’t on duty today. A solid body with strong arms that could haul a fire hose, a thatch of thick blond hair razor clean against his neck, a sunburned tinge of red skin at the collar of his t-shirt.

She tried to keep her gaze from trailing any lower before he noticed she was staring.

“I’m sorry about everything. I mean, hitting your truck and for the way I acted. And I’m sorry I was short with you.” Rose rushed the words. It was easier to apologize if you did it fast.

“Ditto.” His face softened. “Guess I came across pretty strong myself. I just got this truck a couple weeks ago. You could say it’s my baby.” He squinted against the high morning sun. “You aren’t going to be able to drive that car. I’d be glad to give you ladies a ride once the police finish up.”

Rose eyed the shiny pickup. His vehicle was much too high for her mother to manage… not to mention fodder for the rumor mill probably now in full swing. Three cars had already slowed in the past five minutes, giving their little group a leisurely once-over. In James Bay, anything was fair game. The gossip would be flying by nightfall. And the sight of no wedding band on his left hand only made matters worse.
Knowing this town, they’ll have us married off by morning.

“I doubt my mother can climb inside.” The tug of regret she felt refusing his offer of assistance caught Rose by surprise.

“It’s this darn knee,” Irene explained with a faint smile. “I’m having surgery tomorrow. Rose was taking me to the hospital for an EKG.” She latched on to his forearm. “You are a real hero, young man. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t stopped and put out the fire.”

“It wasn’t a fire, ma’am, just the radiator.” The fireman’s face reddened with each passing minute. “I didn’t do anything.”

Correction.
He’d been nice enough to help, considering she’d nearly wrecked his brand-new truck. Plus, she really liked the way he smiled. Rose stepped forward and gently pried her mother’s hand loose. “It’s not like he had much choice, Mom. I hit him, remember?”

A patrol car with flashing lights pulled up behind Irene’s car. Rose’s spirits sank as she caught sight of an unfamiliar face behind the wheel. Just her luck. The officer couldn’t be more than twenty one years old. A rookie on the force with something to prove.

“Got a little problem here?” The policeman strode from the patrol car with a curt nod for her and an easy smile for the fireman.

“Hi, Jerry. Guess you could say we had a little run-in.”

“Looks like it. Say, isn’t that your new truck? What happened?”

Her stomach fluttered. Definitely worse than she’d thought. The two of them sounded like friends.

“Not much to tell.” The fireman cleared his throat. “I stopped. She didn’t.”

“I can’t tell you how many people have blown through that stop sign since they put it up a couple months ago.” The officer reached for his pen.

Rose rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. Guaranteed this would be one ticket she wouldn’t talk her way out of. Especially once they found out she was a lawyer. Law enforcement personnel were always gunning for attorneys running afoul of the law. The last thing she needed was another traffic ticket, especially since she’d been stopped for speeding last fall. If she racked up any more points, she might be taking the bus to work.

A sleek white Cadillac slowed on the street, then cruised to a halt, pulling up behind the police cruiser. Rose groaned and steeled her nerves as their next-door neighbor and old family friend emerged from his car and joined them on the sidewalk. The Judge no longer presided from the bench, but that didn’t stop him from speaking his mind. Hopefully His Honor wouldn’t make matters worse or she’d definitely be doomed to using public transportation.

“Irene? Are you all right?” The Judge’s voice rumbled with concern as he caught her fingers with a little shake. A thundercloud frown was reserved for the rest of them. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re all fine, Harvey,” Irene replied. “No one is hurt… except my car, that is.” She clucked her tongue in disgust.

“They had a little fender bender, Judge.” The officer’s hand tightened around the ticket book. “From what I understand, this young lady ran the new stop sign and—”

“That’s not how it happened,” Rose started. “I will admit I hit his truck, but that stop sign wasn’t—”

“Cecilia Rose, I will handle this.” The Judge silenced her with a firm voice that broached no rebuke. “Officer, have you already written the ticket?”

The baby-faced officer cleared his throat. “Not yet, Your Honor.”

“Fine. I’m sure we can work things out, especially as my client has admitted responsibility.” His black eyes zeroed in on the fireman. “Do you have a problem with that, young man?”

“My truck seems okay,” he said with an easy shrug. “Besides, this town isn’t that big. I suppose I can find her if I need something.”

Rose pushed forward. “If you think for one minute that I’m paying for extra—”

“What?” The fireman smiled. Turquoise-blue eyes looked intently at her. “Or maybe you want to save me some time and grief and give me your name and address now?”

Irene clutched Rose’s arm and pulled her aside. “I think we should let the Judge take it from here. He’ll work things out.”

Rose sputtered. That wasn’t the way things worked in her world. She was no longer five years old and she didn’t need the Judge, or anyone else, fighting her battles. She handled matters for her clients. She could handle matters for herself. “I think—”

The strength in her mother’s hand came as a surprise.

“Let the Judge take care of it,” Irene repeated.

Ten minutes later, Rose was still wondering how he had managed to pull it off. No ticket, no points, no public transportation. Merely a warning and the tow truck bill. A small price to pay for an act of carelessness. No harm done, save to her mother’s car and a few dings to the fireman’s trailer hitch.

Plus a few dings to her own stubborn pride.

“I’ll drop you and Cecilia Rose off at the hospital, but I have a mediation scheduled for this afternoon,” the Judge said as they stood watching the tow truck leave with Irene’s car. “Why don’t you call Lil and see if she can give you a ride home?”

“Good luck with your surgery, ma’am.”

Rose frowned as the fireman headed for his truck with a backward wave. He was leaving? But she didn’t even know his name.

And then he was gone.

“My, but he was cute,” Irene said as Rose helped her settle in the front seat of the Judge’s sedan. “Didn’t you think so, sweetheart?”

“Mmmm,” she said with a vague shrug. Perhaps her mother should consult a dictionary. Cute didn’t come close to describing that fireman. After their little encounter this morning, she herself could of a few choice phrases without much thought. Conceited. Clever. Charming.

Quite the combustible combination.

The hospital was newly remodeled in that quaint up-north style, just like a good part of the downtown. James Bay, under the guise of progress with a capital P, was suffocating. People, drawn by the area’s sparkling blue waters, clean pine air, and the lure of escaping the crowd, moved here every day… never realizing they brought the crowd north straight up the highway with them.

Rose shifted in the hard plastic chair. Any hope of finding a comfortable spot had disappeared, along with her patience. Someone had set the air conditioner on arctic blast. She would need to bring along a sweater tomorrow. They had scheduled the surgery for early morning. Who knew how long it would take? They could be waiting for hours. She rubbed down the goose bumps popping up on her arms and started a fresh mental list of things to remember.

“Don’t you sit there worrying about your mama,” Lil said with a firm shake of her exquisitely coiffed head. “She’s a strong woman. She’ll come through the surgery fine… especially now you’re here.”

With anyone else, Rose’s ear would be fine-tuned for the slightest hint of disapproval, but not when it came to Lillian Gillespie. Her mother’s best friend Lil—just like the Judge—had been one of the family since Rose could remember.

“Of course I had to come home. I couldn’t let Mom go through this alone.”

Lil’s emerald-green eyes filled with  understanding as she leaned in for a hug. “She misses you, honey,” she whispered. “She might not say it, but I know she wishes you lived a little closer.”

The older woman’s words tugged at Rose’s heart as the familiar rush of perfume flooded her senses. Crushed in Lil’s embrace, Rose felt reduced to all of eight years old again. She closed her eyes and shut out the sterile surroundings. If only she could shut out the guilt as well. James Bay was a three-hour drive up the freeway from Grand Rapids, her adopted city for the past three years, and she didn’t make the trip back often.

But James Bay wasn’t home anymore.

No place was.

Lil drew back and settled in her chair. Her eyes settled with military precision upon Rose. “Are you eating enough? You look tired, Cecilia Rose. You need to take better care of yourself. Are you getting enough sleep?”

Rose couldn’t hold back an ironic smile. No need for Lil to be so polite. She was well aware of how bad she looked. No amount of makeup could hide the dark smudges under her blue eyes. Her clothes hung on her lately, loose and unfashionable. She hadn’t dared weigh herself in a month, afraid of the number she would see on the scale. But who had time to eat? Meals were caught on the run or eaten at her desk. There weren’t enough hours in the day to accommodate the demands of a busy law practice, let alone deal with the stress of daily life. She was shrinking inside herself and she couldn’t stop the process. Taking care of yourself meant making time for yourself. Time was a luxury she could ill afford.

“I’ll sleep and eat more now that I’m home,” Rose promised.

Lil lifted an eyebrow. “As I remember, you never were much of a cook.”

“I’m home for the next six weeks. That should be time enough for me to learn.” She had managed to avoid it for twenty-seven years, but there wouldn’t be much else to do around the house besides playing chauffeur and nursemaid. Who knew? Cooking might actually be fun. Not that she believed it for a minute.

“I’ll be over every night,” Lil said.

“To do what? Help me?” Rose smiled. “You’re a worse cook than I am.” Lil’s idea of a good meal at home was anything that arrived courtesy of a fast delivery service.

“Seems like you have talents we didn’t know about. When did you teach your purse how to dance?” Lil pointed at the small clutch pulsating atop a woefully thin stack of magazines on the glass table before them.

Her cell phone. Last night’s string of phone calls had interrupted their dinner and prompted more than one questioning glance from her mother. After the fourth call, Rose had set it on vibrate. Hear no evil, see no evil, answer no evil. But with her mother still busy being poked and prodded, the coast was clear and she’d turned it on. Rose snatched her purse, drew out her smart phone, and checked the identity of the incoming caller.