Ring of Fire (30 page)

“Have a safe ride,” she told the group, and then she walked briskly toward her busy team.

When Eric arrived at a decision, he would tell her. Until then, there was hope.
Think positive
.

Chapter Twenty

Halloween night, in the town square, Lark snatched the opportunity to grab a hot apple cider from the Lions Club booth and chat with Karen Estevez. Both of them were in uniform. Lark had a couple of volunteer firefighters working with her on the big bonfire and fireworks display, but she was the one who had obtained the permit and she took personal responsibility. Other personnel could handle any callouts that might come up.

“It's nice of you to volunteer for duty tonight,” Lark told her friend, “and give Jake a chance to be with Brooke and little Nicki.”

“Halloween's for children. Jamal and I are okay with working until we have a kid of our own to celebrate the day with.”

Despite Karen's statement, Lark thought that, in Caribou Crossing, Halloween was for everyone. A large number of residents turned out for the festivities, many of the adults as well as the kids wearing costumes. Even the wire-frame caribou had been transformed into rhinos and zebras. This afternoon Lark's volunteers, along with members of the chamber of commerce and several of the service clubs, had decorated the town square and set up booths. Now, on this clear, chilly fall evening, the park was festive and bustling.

“I miss being able to go trick-or-treating with Jayden,” Lark said. Mary always helped him put on his costume and took him out, and then they came over to the square to eat the holiday snacks, visit the haunted house, and see the bonfire and fireworks.

“Jayden's doing okay after that fire this morning?” Karen asked.

“It sure seems so.” She'd talked to him a few times during the day, and he'd been more excited than traumatized. “If anything, it's made him even more determined to be a firefighter.”

“I wouldn't count him out. He's been making huge strides.” Karen pointed. “Look at him now, all strong and coordinated.”

Lark glanced over. A service club had set up a “bob for apples” tub. Jayden, in his firefighter costume, stood beside it on his own two feet, holding on to the edge and ducking his head down. He came up with a wet face and a shiny red apple in his teeth. Off to the side, her mother, smiling and wearing a gorgeous poncho she'd designed, held on to his empty wheelchair. Right behind Jayden, not touching him, stood Eric, solid and protective in his jeans, sweater, and a new jacket to replace the fire-scarred, smoke-soured leather one. He was there if Jayden needed him, but wasn't providing unwanted assistance.

Eric. She'd barely spoken to him in passing, but she had noticed that he arrived at the town square with Mary and Jayden. When she asked her son if he'd bagged lots of goodies while trick-or-treating, Jayden told her that Eric had come along with them.

What was Eric doing? She'd told him she loved him; she'd offered him options. She'd asked him to take as much time as he needed, and let her know his decision. It made sense that he'd go to his regular riding lesson—the Wednesday lesson, which she never attended because she was on duty. But why was he hanging around with her family tonight? It annoyed her.

She'd also been more than annoyed earlier when, after returning with the truck to the fire hall, she'd popped next door at lunchtime and heard the full story of the morning's events. That was when she'd learned that Jayden had called her from half a mile away from the fire—after Eric had sent him off alone, on horseback, to find cell service. Her mom had read her anger and said, “Eric assessed the situation. He needed each of us for a specific task. He checked to make sure Jayden was okay with doing it.”

And Jayden had said, “I knew I could do it, Mom. I told him, and he believed me. I'm a good rider now. You have to stop always thinking of me as disabled.”

Mary's solemn nod had reinforced his point, and Lark had realized that maybe, instead of anger, she should feel gratitude that Eric had treated her son as an equal member of his team. Likely that was the reason for the new maturity she sensed in Jayden.

“Lark?” Karen said.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“That they look good together, the three of them.”

“I know.”

“So what are you doing about it?”

She glanced at Karen, who was in so many ways similar to her. Her best friend. A woman who'd found an unexpected love and had overcome adversity in building a happy relationship with Jamal. One of the friends who'd helped her realize that she loved Eric. “I've already done it,” she confessed. Even her mother didn't know, though Mary'd made a comment or two that indicated she'd sensed something was going on. “I laid all my cards on the table and told Eric it's up to him.”

“Wow. I'm impressed, girlfriend. So what's happening? He's with Jayden and your mom, so does that mean . . .”

“I haven't a clue what it means. He sure hasn't told
me
what's going on.”

Humor twitched Karen's lips. “Actions speak louder.”

“I can't read the man's actions,” she snapped, knowing Karen would realize that it was Eric, not her, that Lark was miffed with. “He could just be having a nice final evening with friends before he leaves Caribou Crossing. Or, protective guy that he is, it might be his way of making sure Jayden is okay after the fire.”

“Why don't you ask him?” Karen suggested, taking a last swallow of cider and tossing her paper cup in the recycling bin.

“I told him to let me know when he'd made a decision. The ball's in his court.”

“Wow, with all these cards on the table and balls in courts, it's getting messy,” Karen teased.

“Don't sound so cheerful,” Lark grumbled, throwing away her own empty cup. “If we break up, it's your shoulder I'll come cry on.”

“Oh, honey.” Karen put an arm around her. The humor had left her voice. “I'll always be here for you. But I'd rather be your matron of honor than the wet shoulder you bawl on.”

The hug felt awfully good, but Lark had responsibilities tonight. She eased away. “It's almost time to light the bonfire. I need to go check in with my people.” Two of her younger volunteers were setting things up based on her instructions. They were enthusiastic but inexperienced, so she needed to make sure everything was on track.

As she turned to go, she cast a final glance in her son's direction. He was in his chair now, offering Mary a bite of his apple. Eric had his hands on the back of the chair and was grinning down at them.

It dawned on her that not only was Eric offering support to Jayden and Mary after a disturbing day, but he likely drew support from them as well. This night would be hard on him, too, dealing with the second fire of the day, and another set of fireworks exploding like bombs.

But she was sure he'd handle it. This morning had proved that he'd conquered his PTSD. Which meant he was fit to return to service. Was that what he intended to do?

Soon—because Karen was right—Lark had to get Eric alone and ask what was going on.

* * *

As the last glittery gold and silver sparkles lit up the night sky, Eric glanced down at Jayden's upturned face. Those sparkles were reflected in the boy's dark eyes. As best Eric could tell, Jayden had suffered no ill effects from the morning's events. He was one well-adjusted kid.

As for himself, while he'd had to shove a memory or two out of his mind, he'd survived tonight's test with flying colors. Of course it was different when you were expecting the smoke and flames of a bonfire, or the explosive bangs of fireworks, versus when they came out of nowhere. But he was pretty confident he could go back to duty and function effectively.

He had achieved his goal. But the fire this morning, and all the events since the fire, had made him realize—

“It's time for us to leave.” Mary interrupted his thoughts. “Jayden needs to get to bed.”

Eric was about to ask if they needed help when she added, “You stay here. We're fine.”

Had she read his mind and answered his question, or was she issuing an order? Eric didn't know what Lark had told her mother about their last conversation, but Mary was smart. She'd have sensed something was going on. “I'll stay,” he agreed, “and see if Lark needs help with anything.” What he really hoped was that there'd be an opportunity to talk to Lark privately. On Sunday night, she'd said she loved him. Was it really true?

“Good.”

Eric said good night to Mary and Jayden, and the two of them joined the slow-moving group leaving the town square.

His leg and his residual limb ached from the long, demanding day. So did his arms and back, from lifting that heavy beam. His throat was scratchy from the smoke, too. But none of that stopped him from helping a couple of people who were cleaning up the surprisingly small amount of garbage that hadn't made it into bins.

All the time he kept an eye on Lark and the other two firefighters as they dealt with the debris from the fireworks and bonfire. She glanced up a couple of times, and he caught her eye. Did she need to go back to the fire hall with the other two? If so, he'd follow her. If she had a callout, he'd wait. One thing he knew: he wasn't going to sleep until he'd spoken to her.

Finally, she said something to the others, and then turned away from them and walked with a slow but steady stride toward him. “Eric.”

He went to meet her.

She frowned. “You're limping.”

Had he been? Limping was a common problem with amputees and could cause all sorts of nasty side effects. During his rehab, he'd worked hard on learning how to achieve a balanced gait with his prosthetic leg. “I'm okay. It's just been a long day.”

“Not to mention hauling a boy out of a blazing building.” She gazed at him with concern. “You're sure you're all right? I know the paramedics examined you, but maybe you should see your doctor or Monique tomorrow.”

“I'm fine. Just tired and achy.” Though he appreciated her concern, it wasn't pity or mothering he wanted. It was love.

“How about the PTSD?”

He nodded. “It's good. I'm pretty confident that I can deal with the triggers and the flashbacks now.”

She looked past him. He wasn't sure what she saw, but it put a distant expression on her face. “So,” she said, gazing back at him. “You're ready.”

“Yeah. I—” He was about to tell her exactly how ready he was to move ahead with his life, when she cut him off, saying, “Then how about telling me what's going on? Why are you hanging out with my mom and son on Halloween?”

“That's what I was going to tell you, if you'd give me a chance.”

She huffed. “Fine.”

“You have time now? You don't have to get back to the fire hall?”

“No. I have my pager if I'm needed.”

Hopefully, the pager wouldn't go off, at least until he'd had his say. He took her arm and steered her toward a bench near an old-fashioned street lamp. “You know something? You said once that you're not the easiest woman to be with, and it's true.”

She shot him an offended glare. “Oh, thanks for that.”

“That's something I realized this morning.”

“I'm not following.” In the gentle light of the lamp, she looked confused and tired.

He was tired, too, which was probably the reason he wasn't saying this properly. “Let me take a step back. This morning, I realized something. I love Jayden.”

Her face softened. “I thought maybe you did.”

“He's not the typical kid, in lots of ways. He's smart and brave, but due to his CP his life is complicated. He makes life complicated for those around him.”

When she frowned and opened her mouth, clearly ready to protest, he held up his hand. “His father was an idiot for not hanging around to find out how amazing Jayden is. Complications and all. And you, Lark, you're complicated, too. With your crazy schedule and your responsibilities, and everything you try to juggle. Not to mention the way you poke into a guy's soul and ask all the tough questions. As for me, I'm complicated, too. Or, as Quinn put it, ‘minorly messed up.' Not an easy guy to be with.”

Lark frowned, still looking confused, and no wonder. He should have rehearsed this rather than letting it all bubble out every which way.

“What I'm trying to say is that, despite or maybe even because of all the complications, I love you.”

For a long moment, her expression was blank, like she was replaying words that made no sense. And then, as they sunk in, her face lit up. “You do?”

“Don't tell me that's a big surprise. I bet you figured it out before I did.”

“Maybe. I sure hoped. But I didn't know if you'd admit it to yourself.”

He leaned toward her and she met him halfway, in a kiss that sent a feeling of rightness, of peace, rippling through his entire body. Lark. He was home. For long minutes, he let himself simply enjoy her warm, giving lips, even the scent of wood smoke that hovered around her from the bonfire.

But she planted her gloved hands on his shoulders and eased him away. “What do you want to do, Eric?”

Make love to her. But he wouldn't ask that of her until he'd laid out his hopes for the future.

He held out his hand. She took off a glove and clasped his hand.

Glancing around at the town square and one of the ridiculous rhino-costumed wire caribou, he said, “Since I was a little kid, I never felt like any place was home. I couldn't let myself get attached. Not to a place, not to people other than my own family. Because there was no stability, there was never a future I could count on.”

He turned to her, so beautiful under the starlight. “Caribou Crossing snuck up on me. The riding, the countryside, the town itself. But mostly the people. You, Jayden, Mary. Monique, Karim, the support group. This could”—he took a deep breath and said words he'd never spoken before—“be my home.”