Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday Family\Sugar Plum Season\Her Cowboy Hero\Small-Town Fireman (9 page)

* * *

Outside his military comfort zone? Tina frowned as she studied a slight shift in the wave patterns.

“Most people don't describe hand grenades, snipers, IEDs and long desert tours as comfort zones. Doing so either makes you odd or oddly exciting.” Tina paused and adjusted the angle of her rod. “And I'm not exactly sure how to classify you yet, so I find that more than a little disturbing. An unusual predicament for me.”

His smile rewarded her. “I think I like disturbing you, and let's just say when you do a job well, it's easy to get caught in a rut. I wanted to change things up. When Mom called me about Dad's diagnosis, I realized I might be running out of time, and that was stupid on my part.”

“They don't think you're stupid.” Tina left enough bite in her tone to let Max know she wasn't quite as convinced.

“Well, they love me.”

She frowned and reeled her line in as she acknowledged his comment. “They do. And we've fished this out or they've moved off. Let's try the lodge.”

“Your wish is my command.”

He stowed his line, backed the boat away from the point, then aimed west into the late-day sun. “Gorgeous day.”

“And possible snow tomorrow, so it's good we took the time to do this now. I don't ice fish. Not even for Charlie.”

“Do you think he's going to make it, Tina?”

The question took her by surprise.

Her heart paused. Her breath caught, because the look Max gave her over his shoulder said he'd read the reality of Charlie's condition and wanted her truthful answer.

She looked off over the lake and shrugged off tears. “No.”

Max nodded as if she'd confirmed what he already knew, and Tina realized that despite their close parent-child relationship, he might have trouble discussing this with Jenny. Jenny believed heart and soul that with God, all things were possible.

Tina believed that, too, but she'd watched her parents die, seen her best friend's family suffer through the loss of their son, and she knew that while God wanted his people healthy and happy, the human body was a frail vessel.

Max pulled into a deep-water crevice off the end of the lodge. He stood, turned and grabbed his pole, but not before Tina saw the anguish in his eyes.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to give him hope. She wanted his father to be healthy and happy and ready to rock more grandbabies on his knee, show them how to build a campfire and take them trolling through migrating swans and geese in the boat.

Charlie's timeline said that wasn't likely to happen.

Max pulled himself up. He drew a breath, then slanted her a look that said more than words as he jutted his chin toward her pole. “Let's get this show on the road, woman. These fish won't catch themselves, and there's a bunch of Campbells coming for supper tomorrow night.”

His words said he was ready to deal with whatever came his way, as long as Charlie Campbell got his fried perch dinner. Tina figured if the fish didn't cooperate, Max would dive into the water with a net to make sure there was plenty of food. If this was to be Charlie's last perch dinner, Max would see it was a great one. Tina was certain of that.

* * *

“Forty-two fish?” Jenny hugged Max and Tina in turn, and Charlie looked suitably impressed when they lugged the cooler full of fish up into the front yard of the Campbell house. “That's amazing.”

“Well, our little Tina knows her way around the lake,” Max drawled. His grin said he was proud of her, and the combination of Jenny's surprise, Charlie's joy and Max's pride made her feel like she could handle anything. Even in Kirkwood Lake. That realization felt good and surprising all at once.

“I'll clean fish,” Max announced, and he set up the old fish-cleaning table that Charlie kept stored in the boathouse. “Do we want to order pizza and wings for supper? I should have these guys filleted and on ice just in time to catch the Thursday-night game. You up for that, Dad?”

“Could be.” Was it the sight of the fresh fish or the thought of a football game that brightened his father's eyes? Max wasn't sure, but it felt good.

“I'll turn on the floodlights,” Jenny told him. “It's getting dark soon and I don't want you cutting yourself.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I can help.” Tina moved over to the small table and pulled up a stool. “I know how to fillet perch.”

Max handed her an extra knife. “Don't expect me to say no. There are eighty-four little fillets here, and that's a lot of skin-zipping and slicing.”

“It is.”

“I'm ordering the pizza to be ready at game time. Is that okay?” Jenny called from the house.

“Perfect. And if some of those wings are Buffalo-style, you'll make me very happy,” Max called back.

“Is there another kind, darling?”

Max laughed, because raising five boys and two daughters had schooled his mother on the intrinsic differences. Cass and Addie liked the country-sweet wings with a hint of fire.

The Campbell boys had always tussled for the hotter side of life from early on. Maybe that was what pushed him into the service, the “let's best each other” guy-speak he'd grown accustomed to as a kid.

Now?

He was all right with tough, but he yearned for more. He longed for a chance to be all the things his father had been to him. A kind and giving man, a loving dad, a humor-filled confidant.

“Tina, I ordered hot wings for you, too. With extra blue cheese. I hope that's okay?” Jenny's voice cut through the thinning light from the far side of the screened porch.

“Perfect. Thank you!”

“Hot wings?” Max sent a look of interest her way as he zipped through the motions of cleaning fish.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Skilled fisherwoman?”

She grinned at the full cooler. “So it would seem.”

“And you clean up well.”

“I do what I can.”

He leaned over, forcing her to look up. Meet his gaze. She did but his proximity made her look nervous. Max decided he liked making Tina Martinelli nervous. And while his head cautioned him to sit back and be quiet, his heart pushed him forward. She sent him a mock-frown as if interrupting her focus was a terrible thing. “What?”

“I think I'm falling for you, Tina. And I'm not too sure what to do about that because you're determined to go and I'm intent on staying.”

Her mouth opened. Her eyes went wide, as if the last topic of conversation she expected over a pile of perch was a declaration of affection. A declaration he probably shouldn't make because Max understood the rigors of fall-out, and when folks found out what he did, or rather what he didn't do, people's respect for him was likely to nosedive. But spending the day with Tina, talking, fishing, trolling the lake for the first time since Pete and Amy's accident...

He felt like he was home, finally.

“You're not like anyone else, you're the prettiest thing ever and your fighting spirit makes me feel like I can fix things. Old wrongs, cranky motors and rusted-out tools.”

“Max—”

“Well, now, I didn't say all that to interrupt your work, and I don't intend to eat pizza and wings while I'm smelling like fish, so we've got to hustle if we're going to have cleanup time, but...” He drawled the last, leaned back in his seat and let his eyes underscore his words. “I just thought you should know.”

He'd silenced her.

He decided that might be a good thing to remember for future reference, because strong women like Tina didn't do quiet all that well.

“You don't play fair, Max.”

“I thought we ascertained that in the car last night.”

Her frown said she remembered their conversation.

“Except I'm ready to be done with war, which brings us back to the first part of the saying.”

“And I'm not a game player. Ever. Toying with people's hearts and emotions doesn't make the short list especially since my heart's been run ragged the past few years.”

The guard in her tone said she'd erected boundaries for good reason. “Tell me something I don't know.” He zip-skinned another fish, like Charlie had taught him years before. “Women tend to be a confusing bunch, if not downright crazy.” She bristled and that made him grin. “But not you. And when I asked myself, ‘Why is that? What makes Tina Marie Martinelli different?' I knew right off what the answer was. Because she's honest.”

She darted a look at him that said he should stop, not go any further.

“Forthright.”

“There's a compliment and a half for you.”

“Faith-filled.”

Her jaw softened. Her eyes did, too.

“And when I'm not with her, she's all I can think about.”

Her chin faltered.

Her eyes went wet with unshed tears. “Don't mess with me, Max Campbell.” Her voice came out in a tight whisper.

“Two things you should know about me, Tina Marie.”

She met his look with her jaw set and her mouth firm, determined and ready to clean his clock if needed. And he decided that riling Tina was a new kind of fun. He liked it, but he held her attention with a straight-on look. “I don't mess with anyone. I talk straight, I shoot straight and I mean what I say every time.”

Her throat convulsed, reading his meaning. Hearing his pledge. “And the second thing?”

“I'd like three kids, but I could be talked into four. Under the right set of circumstances, of course.”

Her smile started small and grew. She ducked her chin, picked up her filleting knife and growled. “This is how you court a girl, Max? Over a mess of fish and a sharp knife?”

“Whatever works, Tina.” He grinned and got back to the fish, but not before winking at her. “Whatever works.”

Chapter Seven

G
one.

Tina stared at the vacant lot the next morning, under a cold, leaden sky.

The burned-out shell had been razed and carted away. The concrete deck remained, but the cute garage sale tables and chairs she'd bought, sanded and painted in bright shore-tones of blue, green and yellow had been toted off, as well.

Regret hit her. She'd meant to keep them, to put them in storage, tuck them away. They'd been safe from the fire because they'd been out on the broad, concrete deck. They could have been spared destruction, but she hadn't said anything to the work crew and now they were gone.

Scorch marks marred the concrete, but the lot itself was scraped to the thick cement slab, the footprint of a building she'd loved.

Emotion pushed her forward. The weather had turned seasonal again, with a sharp wind off Lake Erie. Yesterday's transient warmth had been an anomaly, a flashback of Indian summer. Today?

Reality set in. Her business was gone, the lot swept clean and the unseasonable warmth had been jack-knifed east by a Canadian clipper system that promised Thanksgiving snow.

She pictured the jazzy, retro tables she'd stained and stenciled. The fun, mismatched chairs. The cool espresso machine, the bank of syrups. The double-sided deep sink, the rotating convection oven that baked sixteen pies at once. The five-seat counter, small but friendly, and the locals who used to frequent it throughout the year.

“Hey.”

Max's voice hailed her.

She turned, fighting the rise of sadness. She wasn't generally overly emotional, but since the fire, it seemed like she couldn't grab hold of her feelings. She didn't like this new normal. It left her vulnerable, an emotion Tina abhorred. “Different, right?”

His gaze appraised her, and his expression changed from wondering to “handle with care.”

She made a face and dug her toe into the loose dirt alongside the scraped-clean slab. “I didn't think it would affect me like this.”

Max nodded.

“I hated seeing it all burned-out, such a mess, but this seems so final.”

“Only as final as you make it, Tina.”

Redo? Restart? Begin again? Here?

One look at Max said the idea was tempting. But she wasn't about to jump into rash decisions, not ever again. She hauled in a breath and smiled when he held out a coffee. “I thought this might taste good.”

“It's morning and it's coffee, so one-plus-one.” She paused and sipped, then smiled. “You made me a mocha?”

“Mocha latte. And yes.” He slanted the lake a quick look, reminding her of their fishing excursion the previous day. “You've got hidden talents. So do I.”

“It's delightful.”

“I agree,” he said, but he wasn't looking at the coffee cup when he said it.

A slow blush curled up from somewhere around her toes, so she changed the subject. “I wanted to thank you for yesterday.” She turned and started walking toward the hardware store. “For using the fishing trip to keep me out of town while they worked here.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I got the girl for the whole afternoon, the first fishing trip I've had in years, and the makings of a great dinner. I was in the winner's circle on all counts.”

“You're a thoughtful man, Max.”

“I've improved in that department,” he corrected her. “And it took a while, but I'm educable, Tina. I do have a shot of bad news, though.”

“Charlie?” Apprehensive, she turned quickly and banged square into his arm. He steadied her with his free hand...and then didn't let go.

“No, he's holding his own.” He waved west of Main Street to Upper Lake Road with his other hand. “The company that was contracted to do the park lights backed out today.”

“No.”

His grim expression said yes. “They called the house phone this morning and left a message. I tried contacting them, but got no answer, so I called a guy in Buffalo to check it out. The company bellied-up this week.”

“Max.” This was the kind of thing that could put the committee over the top. With less than a week to go before the Festival of Lights officially opened how could they possibly fix the situation? “What are we going to do?”

“I'm not sure. The Christmas on Main Street part is all set between the town and the business owners. And the home-owners do their own thing around the lake to give us the circle of light. The living Nativity will be set up for the two weekends before Christmas, with people taking rotations for playing the parts of the family, angels and shepherds in the cold. But the park...” His dark expression said he understood what a huge loss that was to the town fund-raising. “The park drive-through is a big draw and a financial plus for the women's shelter.”

“There's got to be someone else to hire.”

“Not at this late date,” he reminded her. “And if this company dumped a bunch of contracts, then there are other places scrambling for services. I'll check around today, but it doesn't seem likely.”

“I can't imagine facing Georgia Palmeteer with this news.” Tina matched his frown. “She'll eat us alive.”

“We'll keep it to ourselves while I check out other possibilities, but if I haven't come up with something by tomorrow, we'll have to inform the committee,” Max replied. “And my dad.”

“Do you want me to tell them?”

Max looped his arm around her shoulders, an arm that seemed to know she'd gotten chilled standing at the shore. “No, I'll do it. But first I'm going to see if I can't put some form of Plan B into action. It's always better to deliver bad news with an alternative action plan in place.”

“You learned that in the army.”

He let go of her, opened the back door of the hardware store, unlocked the inner door and let her precede him as he laughed. “I learned that being Jenny Campbell's son. When your mother's nickname is ‘Hurricane Jenny' you grow up realizing she's a force to be reckoned with and act accordingly. Which means unconventional measures became a way of life.”

She acknowledged the truth in his words. His mother had always been the “get 'er done” type the woman folks approached if they needed advice or something accomplished. And Jenny herself was handy with power tools and the softer side of home decor, so her expertise had helped people for decades.

But how were they going to decorate a drive-through park with no Christmas lights?

That posed a tough question with the annual festival looming.

* * *

“I asked Mrs. Thurgood to join us tonight,” Jenny whispered as Tina hooked her jacket that evening. “She's not as strong as she was last year, and I thought an old-fashioned fish dinner might be nice for her.”

“I'll go sit with her,” Tina replied. “I miss our wise little chats when she'd come in for coffee.”

She purposely hadn't driven to the Campbell house with Max. If she let him drive, he'd have to take her home later, and no way was she setting herself up for more romantic moments. She had enough on her plate right now, didn't she?

I think Max is a pretty nice addition to that plate
, her conscience scolded.
You might want to think twice about holding him off. Remember that old window/door thing? When God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window? Why can't that be here? Now? Maybe Max is your destiny and you're too stubborn to see it.

Max was amazing, she admitted to herself as she crossed the room to see Mrs. Thurgood. But—life was confusing right now. And she didn't do confusing all that well, it seemed.

Because you can't control the confusion
, her conscience tweaked one more time.
You like to set the rules, run the show.

The truth in the reminder made her wince internally.

Let go, and let God. Follow the path. Trust, Tina. That's what it comes down to. Trust.

She'd weigh her internal struggles later, after a night of Campbell fun, a night that might be Charlie Campbell's last fresh-caught family fish fry. No way in the world would she let worry spoil that. She sank down next to Mrs. Thurgood, a sweet old gal who lived in a filled-to-the-brim house outside of town. She reached out and patted the elderly woman's knee. “Mrs. Thurgood, how are you? I don't get to see you all that often now.”

The old woman gave her a hug, an embrace that seemed weaker than the last time she'd seen her. “I miss that café! It was like a home away from home, without the clutter, of course. To stop in there or mosey next door to the vintage store and see Carmen and Gianna, well, that just made my day,” she exclaimed. “But my driving days are over according to the DMV—though I can't imagine staying cooped up in my place all winter, hoping for a ride to town.”

It seemed life's changes weren't just surrounding Tina. Reading the look on the old woman's face, Tina understood that Mrs. Thurgood was facing her own dragons of adjustment. But then Mrs. Thurgood blessed her with a bright smile and said, “I'm thinking of renting that apartment right below you, actually.”

“Really?” Tina knew the first-floor tenants in her building had bought a place closer to Clearwater and were scheduled to move. “Mrs. Thurgood, I'd love it if we were neighbors.”

“Me, too. It would be just the ticket, I think.” Her words said one thing. Her face said she hated the thought of moving. She looked up just then, and her face broke into a wide smile. “Max Campbell. Come give an old woman a hug!”

Max did just that, and the gentle way he embraced their elderly friend showed the tough, rugged soldier's big heart. “You look wonderful, Mrs. Thurgood.”

“Oh, you!” She blushed in delight, and gripped his hands in hers. “It's so nice to have you back, helping with everything. You are a blessing to your family, and this town, and I'm so glad you're here, Max!”

A slight grimace darkened Max's face. Why? Tina wondered. Guilt over being away? Staying away?

But then he smiled and squeezed Mrs. Thurgood's hands gently. “It's good to be home.”

“Any luck?” Seth drew a chair up alongside the couch and kept his voice low as he addressed Max. “On the search for lights?”

“No. There aren't lights to beg, borrow or steal in a three-state radius unless we're willing to pay retail and foot the bill.”

“Georgia Palmeteer will eat you alive,” Seth told him, and in typical brother fashion, he sounded kind of excited about that idea.

“What's gone wrong?” Mrs. Thurgood grasped Max's hand. “What's got you worried about Georgia, Max? Maybe I can help.”

Max sent her a rueful look. “Only if you've got a barn full of Christmas lights we can use for the park.”

She perked up instantly. “As a matter of fact, I do!”

Seth stared at her.

So did Max.

“You've got Christmas decorations, Mrs. Thurgood?” Tina broke the silence and leaned closer. “I'll help you put them up in your new place if you'd like.”

“Oh, no, no, dear, not like that, that's not it at all,” the old woman exclaimed. “You know how I can never throw anything away?”

Tina had heard stories about the packed clutter of the old woman's home, but had never visited. “I've heard.”

“Well, my husband and son had a thing for Christmas—they just loved it! We collected all sorts of fun things over the years, and George and Butch put everything they had into building great big displays. Once George passed away, Butch kept on buying, right up until he went to war. I didn't have the heart to tell him no,” she confessed, “so the barn is chock full of outdoor Christmas decorations. Now, they're kind of old-fashioned-looking, but I'm sure that barn is jam-packed with lots of fun stuff you can use in the park.”

Tina looked at Max.

Max returned the gaze.

“If we use Mrs. Thurgood's stash of Christmas lights—” Max began.

“And have people donate any extra lights they may have—” Tina added.

“We can use Dad's emergency backup generators from the store.” He looked downright hopeful at the thought. “We might be able to do this, Tina.”

“Come out to the house tomorrow,” Mrs. Thurgood urged him. “You can use anything you find. If George and Butch were here, they'd be glad I found a home for this stuff at long last.”

Max gave her another hug. “I'll do that. Seth, you free tomorrow?”

“No, but Luke is, and there's nothing he'd like better than to help you.”

Luke made a face at Seth but shrugged assent as he drew closer. “Count me in as long as Rainey's mother can watch the kids. I'll give her a call.”

“Can we do it first thing?” Tina wondered. “Before church, maybe? Because we've got to open the hardware store midday.”

“Is there electric in the barn, Mrs. Thurgood? Does it have lights?” Max asked.

She nodded. “Sure does, and far as I know they work fine. I haven't been in there in a good many years,” she told them, “so there's maybe the odd critter or two as well, but not too many with a tight roof and no food. Critters like food, so I make sure there's none lying about. An old lady on her own can't be too careful.”

From what Tina had heard, careful didn't apply in all aspects of Mrs. Thurgood's life, but the eccentric old woman had been a constant support for Tina's business. She'd shared recipes, insight and time, and her visits to the café had been a welcome respite. “Is 8:00 a.m. good?” She raised an eyebrow to Max.

He nodded. “I'll pick up Luke and meet you there. Mrs. Thurgood, you might have just saved Christmas for the town.”

She brightened noticeably. “Well, good! And if Butch was still here, he'd be right alongside you, stringing lights and hanging holly. He loved Christmas so much.” She sat forward and aimed her gaze back to Max. “George and I just loved that boy, being our only child and all. When George passed on, it was just me and Butch, getting things done. I didn't want him to join the service, but he had a mind of his own and then I lost him. I lost a part of me that day the army came calling, a part of me that cared about foolish stuff. I decided then and there I'd put folks first, and I've done it, too. My house might be in a sad state of repair, but my soul smiles at the name of Jesus.”