The Perfect Match (23 page)

The intensity must have rattled Guthrie, for the man’s eyes focused, darkened. Then his mouth opened in a howl that sounded more like a wounded animal’s than a human’s.

“Where, Guthrie?” Dan said, trying to gentle his voice. It wasn’t easy with a thousand gallons of adrenaline surging through him. He took off Guthrie’s helmet, started to wrestle him out of his coat. “I’ll go get her; just tell me where.”

Guthrie blinked at him, then nodded. “The meat cooler. I . . . I didn’t want to hurt her.” He shrank to his knees, his hands over his face, sobs now racking him so violently that Dan had to fight them to get off the jacket. “I just wanted to rescue her. Prove to her that I could be . . .”

Dan stared at him, on the brink of ripping the words right out of his throat.

Guthrie looked up. “I just wanted her to love
me
.
”
His eyes glazed. “Why can’t she love me?”

He shook out of Dan’s grip, backing away, his eyes widening. “But she loves
you.
I heard her calling out for you when I threw her in the truck.” When his face twisted, some sort of mania-induced hope filled his face, his voice. “You’ll rescue her, right? You’ll do it.”

Dan dropped to his knees. “I need the boots.”

Guthrie worked them off, as if eager now to assist. He stripped out of the bunker pants and Dan put them on, snapped the suspenders up, and dived into the boots. The SCBA gear under his arm, he hurried toward the engine.

Guthrie grabbed him by the arm and Dan whirled, not sure if the man was trying to stop him. Guthrie shoved the helmet onto his head. “Be careful,” he said, his eyes strangely bright.

Dan nodded, not sure exactly what to say.

Mitch had already unfurled the hose. John Benson had arrived, and one look at him told Dan that John knew the stakes. He was latching his coat, pulling on his
gloves. Dan pulled on his mask and hood as the fire roared behind them, now sending a plume of sparks into the sky. “Guthrie stashed her in the meat locker.”

“What?” Mitch’s face darkened. “I just ordered the electricity shut off. She’ll asphyxiate in there without the recirculating oxygen.”

The picture of Ellie, white-faced in a death pallor, gasping for her last, poisoned breath filled his brain with icy pain. “I’m going in after her.”

“No. We need two men on the hose,” Mitch barked. “We have a better chance of saving her if we don’t lose you too. We need to do this right, how she taught us.”

Dan glared at him, then closed his eyes.
Oh, God, please help me!
He could run in, his fears unbridled, and leave behind common sense, or he could listen to his captain and hope they beat a path to the kitchen door. Either way, it would be in God’s hands. Frustration felt like a living beast crawling up his stomach. He tightened Guthrie’s helmet onto his head. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Dan tucked himself behind John as they sprinted toward the building with the limp hose. “She’s in the meat locker! Near the back,” Dan hollered, adrenaline garbling his voice through the mask amplifier. If he wanted John to understand him, he’d have to stay calm. He swallowed and repeated his words.

At the entrance John nodded and turned on the nozzle. The spray hit the flames with a serpent’s hiss, loud and long and agonized. Steam buffeted Dan’s mask while he wrestled the hose forward. They stepped into the building, staying low, spraying near the base, just as Ellie had drilled into them. Two steps. The blackness felt alive, moving in shadows. Dan made out nothing, not
even John’s form in front of him. He only knew the rush of the water, the steam, the pulsating hose in his hands.

And then hands behind him moved him aside. “It’s Ernie. Go.” When Ernie stepped up into his place, Dan dropped to the floor. Ellie would skin him alive for plowing into a fire without a buddy, but he’d apologize later. He reached out, knocking over what he surmised was a chair. He felt like a snail, slow, encumbered, blind as he crawled through the restaurant, the smoke mocking the efforts of his feeble flashlight. The heat pressed him down onto the floor, and dread seeped into his soul.

How would she survive this?

His head bumped hard into a wall, and as he felt it, he placed himself at the bar. Working his way along it, he hesitated at the lip. Through the darkness he made out orange-and-yellow flames, beckoning, outlining the kitchen door.

And just beyond, the meat locker.

“I need water!” he yelled, then realized he was wasting his breath. The fire devoured his words.

Gathering his feet, he tucked his light into his pocket and scrambled toward the flames, then dived.

He hit the door of the meat locker, fought for the handle, wrenched it open, and threw himself inside, closing the door behind him as the fire surged toward the new oxygen supply.

The cold breath fogged his mask, and the blackness felt as surreal and teasing as the smoke. He reached for his flashlight, flicked it on.

He gritted his teeth against the sudden lurching of his heart when he saw Ellie, eyes closed, curled into a ball in the center of the floor.

E
llie roused to hands on her shoulders. Her eyes felt frozen; her throat burned with every breath. She had tried to fight the wave of sleep, vaguely aware of voices in her mind screaming at her to stay awake. But she no longer felt the pain spiking through her joints, the cold felt less brutal, and her mind—oh, she’d found sweet oblivion remembering—

“Ellie!”

When she heard the mumbled voice, tears flooded her eyes. She fought to open them as someone ripped at her bonds, growling in frustration. She conjured up a thought through her foggy mind—her wrists had to be bleeding because she’d spent the better part of the last twenty minutes rubbing them raw. Or maybe it had been longer than that.

Suddenly the tape snapped. She cried out while it tore from her wrists, a sudden flash of pain after so much numbness. She hunched over, breathing hard as she brought her hands around.

“Hang in there, honey,” the fireman said.

Her heart jumped into her throat, pricking new tears.
Dan?

He rolled the tape down her legs, off her feet as she awoke every muscle and lifted her head to look.

Yes, Dan, and he looked as if someone had bludgeoned him. Pale, eyes red, even through his mask. She pulled him down next to her. “You found me.”

He dumped his helmet, ripped off the hook, and levered his mask from his head. “Where are you hurt?”

He moved his mask to her mouth, and sweet, compressed air rushed over her. Despite the coolness, it felt like fire on her frozen throat. She shook her head in answer.

He lay down next to her. “The kitchen is on fire. We’re trapped. We’ll have to wait until they find us.” Taking off his jacket, he draped it over them, cocooning them in instant warmth, his flashlight lighting one side of his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

She scrabbled to focus, fight the press of sleep. “I can’t believe you came in after me.” Her voice sounded drowsy. But one thought centered her. He had tracked her down and risked his life to save her in the face of her betrayal. The realization left her weak. She didn’t deserve this man. She wiggled away from the mask. “Breathe.”

He obeyed, drinking in air, then covered her face again with his mask. “Of course I’m going to come after you. I love you. Don’t you get it?”

She felt a sob build and pushed it back. “I want to. I do. But why?” Her voice was muffled against the mask.

“Because you’re you,” he said softly, as if they were
sitting on the beach instead of huddling under his coat, buddy breathing. “Because God knew I needed someone who makes me feel, makes me want to embrace the day. You set my life on fire, Ellie.”

“Is that good?” She pushed the mask toward him and watched him breathe, his eyes locked on hers. She dug her hand into his suspender, drawing him toward her.

“Very good,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Oh, Dan, I’m sorry I suspected you. What was I thinking?” She hiccupped back a sob. “I’m an idiot. I should never have suspected you.”

He moved the mask from his face toward hers. “I forgive you. We’ll talk about it later. That, and why you seem to try so hard to keep me out of your life.”

“No.” She pulled the mask away, aware now that his face was only inches from hers. She could feel his five-o’clock shadow, feel his warm breath on her skin. His eyes held hers with such compassion she just wanted to burrow into his arms and hide from reality—the air heavy and filled with poison and a fire blocking their road to freedom.

A good fire chief would think of a way to escape.

Only she didn’t want to be a fire chief right now. She wanted to be a terrified and wounded woman. She wanted to be protected, rescued, and cherished. She wanted to be the woman Dan needed, the woman she saw reflected in his eyes. “Dan, I’m not going to keep you out of my life. I’m ready to hang up my helmet. I’ll do this on your terms.”

Dan returned the mask to her face, forcing her to breathe. “That’s just the fear talking. I know—”

She shook her head. “You don’t know. I’m tired.
Tired of trying to be enough for myself, for everyone else. I want to rest.” She closed her eyes, her words settling deep.
I just want to abide. To be.

“I’m not going to let you give up.”

A
whoosh,
then water lashed them, drenching them. When Ellie jerked, Dan’s arm tightened around her. Pinpricks of pain started at her legs, worked their way up her spine. She felt the temperature in the room immediately warm as the heat from the kitchen fire invaded the room. “Where am I?”

“In the fridge.”

“The fridge? As in, a side of beef?”

He nodded. “It’s better than being barbequed, don’t you think?”

“Immensely.” She smiled at the relief that washed over Dan’s face. “Let me warm up and then we’ll talk about my future as a fire chief.”

The firemen turned the room into a cave of steam. Water dripped from the walls, the sides of beef, the wire shelves. Dan held Ellie under his coat until the deluge stopped. When John lifted Dan’s coat, the fireman resembled some sort of outer-space alien in his mask amidst a fog of cooled smoke. “You guys okay?”

Ellie coughed through the mask Dan held to her face. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Dan climbed to his knees, then lifted Ellie into his arms. To his complete shock, she looped one arm around his neck and pressed the mask back to his face. “Get me out of here.”

“Aye, aye, Chief,” Dan said, grinning.

John draped the coat over her, and she tucked her head under it as Dan picked his way out of the building. On a second hose, Simon and Doug battled a wall of flame still fighting for life on the far side of the kitchen. The smoke cover had lessened. Dan scanned the charred ceiling and a few burned tables before he stumbled out. The ratio of damage to smoke made him wonder if most of the damage was confined to the kitchen.

The rescue truck bathed the restaurant in halogen light. A crowd stood behind three parked police cruisers. An extra water truck had arrived, now pumping water into the hose that snaked around the back. Two other hoses ran from the engine, which sucked water from a nearby water main. Craig manned the gauge on the pumper. Mitch, now in his turnouts, came to relieve Dan of his burden, but Dan shook his head.

Ellie recoiled into the jacket and frowned at Mitch. “I thought . . .”

Mitch drew back, and Dan thought he saw hurt flicker across Mitch’s expression.

“Mitch saw you being kidnapped, honey,” Dan said softly, not quite sure why Ellie wore a pale look of confusion. “He ran to the police station—probably saved your life.”

Ellie blinked at him, then stretched out her arm from under the jacket, touching Mitch’s coat. “Thanks, Mitch.”

Dan looked at the two of them, at something passing between them, feeling unease coil in his stomach. Did they—?

And then Ellie wrapped her arms around Dan’s neck.
“My feet are starting to come alive, and they hurt,” she whispered. “Can you hang on to me just a bit longer?”

He met her eyes, filled with a new texture that he hoped was trust, and nodded. Oh yeah, he could hold her into the next century if she wanted. Especially the way she was curled into his chest for the entire population of Deep Haven to see. He tightened his grip and carried her to the rescue unit. Dan sat on the bumper, put Ellie in his lap.

Steve Lund had arrived with his ambulance and hustled over a stretcher. “Hey, Preach, can I check her over?”

Dan grinned over the top of Ellie’s head. “Only if you give her back.”

Ellie had her hand in Dan’s suspender. “No. He can check me right here.”

Dan raised an eyebrow at Steve, who frowned. “Whatever,” he stammered. He knelt before them and checked her pulse, her blood pressure. “I want to get some oxygen in you. Clear out your lungs.”

Reluctantly, Ellie sat up, and Dan helped her over to the stretcher. She sat on it, his turnout coat around her shoulders, her huge eyes pinned to his as Steve put a mask over her face. She pulled it away. “Don’t go far. I want to finish our talk.”

Okay, so who was this woman? Had he rescued the right girl? What had Guthrie done with the “don’t help me, I can do it myself” spitfire he’d come to know . . . and love? But he liked this version too—sooty, her hair in mud-caked tangles, nestled in his coat, eyes glued to him as if he were some sort of movie hero. Yeah, he’d take occasional appearances of this Ellie Karlson without argument.

Somehow he tore his eyes from hers, away from the weird sensation that something spectacular had happened in that locker, and watched the fire. Two men from the St. Francis Township crew were on ladders, cutting holes in the roof. The flames had vanished; only charcoal gray smoke plumed out of the roof. Dan turned, looking for Sam. He spotted him posed next to his car, talking to Mayor Romey Phillips. Something about Sam’s dark expression hit Dan funny.

He crouched and arranged his coat tighter around Ellie’s shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

The night felt moist and heavy as he walked toward the duo. He was drenched in sweat and reeked of smoke. If someone stood too close to him, they were liable to need smelling salts. He looked about the furthest thing from pastoral, but he felt, in his soul, that someone needed protecting.

“I’m just saying that maybe this wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been a woman.” Romey’s voice sounded tired.

“What wouldn’t have happened?” Dan asked too brusquely to be considered polite. He could almost see the mayor flinch.

“How ya doing, Dan?” Sam asked. He clapped him on the shoulder. “How’s Ellie?”

“Alive. Brave.” Dan crossed his arms. “What are you saying, Mayor?”

Romey lifted his chin as if resenting the fact that Dan towered over him. “I found us a new chief. He’s from Iowa but has about ten years’ experience. He’s ready to start on Monday. Permanent.”

Dan never felt like slugging someone so many times in
one day. “What?” He shook his head. “What about Ellie? She’s done her job.”

Romey smiled, utilizing his PR skills, something Dan had obviously abandoned. “She has, yes. But you have to admit that her presence here has caused an unfortunate . . . situation.”

“You can’t blame her for another man’s obsession. In fact—” Dan ran his hand through his hair—“I don’t think you can even blame Guthrie. My gut tells me that his sister’s death has knocked him more off balance than we imagined.”

The mayor nodded, genuine empathy in his eyes. “I agree, Pastor. It’s just that Ellie . . . well, I think the men would react better to working under a man.”

Dan clenched his jaw and stared at Romey. “That’s probably the most chauvinistic—”

“—and true statement I’ve heard in almost three months.” Ellie limped up next to Dan. “They would. Having a woman at the helm breeds all sorts of problems.”

“Even if she is able?” Dan asked curtly. He cupped his hand under Ellie’s elbow to support her.

Ellie smiled, and when she looked up at Dan, he saw gratitude, even humor in her eyes. “Yes.” Then, taking a deep breath, her smile faded. “Mayor, I’ve appreciated this job. It’s been an . . . adventure.” She held out her hand. “But I don’t think Deep Haven is ready for a woman fire chief yet. And I’m not ready to be her, even if Deep Haven was ready.”

“Ellie—”

Ellie shook Romey’s hand. “Thank you for the opportunity. I’ll clear my things out tomorrow, right after I finish the paperwork on tonight’s events.”

She left Sam, Romey, and Dan standing openmouthed as she limped back to her stretcher.

“What did you say to her?” Sam asked.

Dan shook his head, completely baffled. “Nothing. I . . . why is she doing this?”

Romey’s eyes sparked with admiration. “Maybe she cares more about this town than she does about herself.”

Dan turned and stalked back to her. No. This was
not
right. Ellie deserved this job. She’d fought prejudice, long hours, and an arsonist for her life. He wouldn’t let her quit.

She sat on the stretcher, holding the oxygen mask to her mouth. “Hey,” she said, pulling the mask away. “It’s the right thing, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” Dan slid to his knees, gripped her arms. “This job is your life. You can’t quit.”

“I can. I do.” She grinned at him. He wanted to throttle her. “I don’t need this job. In fact, I don’t even want this job anymore.”

Okay, now really, he was going to have to shake the truth out of Guthrie. Where was the real Ellie?

She touched his face, her fingers light and soft and sending flames through him. “I realized while I was trapped that I’ve been working my entire life trying to find the one thing I already had.”

He frowned.

“God’s love.”

He had no words when he opened his mouth. Only confusion.

“Seth used to say to me, ‘God is enough.’ It drove me crazy. I never got it. Seth was my parents’ golden child. He was going to follow in Dad’s footsteps. Be a fire—”

“Chief.” Dan cupped her face. “And when he died, you thought you had to take his place. Earn your right to live.”

She smiled, a wobbly admission. “Something like that. Only I never felt good enough. Never felt like I’d done enough or said the right things.”

He nodded, his throat thick, understanding better than she could ever comprehend.