Claire slept for three days at the hotel. On Sunday evening, she called Eddie, the fireman. A short while later, they met on a sidewalk outside a book-and-coffee shop.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
An awkward moment passed as they stared at each other.
He grinned crookedly. “This is like some kind of weird blind date.” He held open his arms. “It shouldn’t be, should it?”
“No.” She sighed and stepped into his embrace.
He was taller than she remembered. Lean. Sinewy. His cotton polo shirt smelled of fresh laundry, his arms of soap.
The stranger again—offering safety and security she could find nowhere else.
They sat across from each other at a small corner table, coffee mugs in hand. Classical music played softly in the background. Scattered about the store was a hodgepodge of people at other tables and on couches and upholstered chairs, with friend, book, or lap-top. Paintings by local artists adorned the walls, some of them pastoral, some of them angst-ridden.
Eddie said, “This is a great place. I’ve never been here before.”
She nodded. “It’s comfy. I found it a few years ago.”
“So.” His eyes zeroed in on hers. “How are you?”
“Confused, angry, exhausted. Wondering if I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Did I mention angry?”
“Hmm.”
“Sorry, that sort of slipped out by itself.”
“No, it’s fine. I was just thinking you look prettier than I remem-ber. Probably because you washed the smudges off your face and combed your hair.”
“Now I know why I called you. You lie quite well.”
He laughed. Crow’s-feet crinkled around sky-blue eyes. His mouth was wide in a narrow face. Now that his cappuccino-brown hair wasn’t mashed down from a helmet, she saw that it was wavy.
“It’s the truth,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes, the ones that carried bags so large she hadn’t even bothered with makeup. It wouldn’t have helped. “I have to warn you. I’m into being abrasively real these days.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“I keep upsetting people.”
“No problem.”
“Then let’s get something straight. I’m a mess and I look it, and I don’t care. I am not capable of saying a kind word, and I don’t care.”
“I still think you’re prettier than I remember.”
She puffed out a sound of disbelief.
“You will get through this.” His gentle voice and demeanor melted her defenses. The words of hope echoed Indio’s.
She plunked her elbows on the table and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.
“Hey.” He pried off one of her hands and squeezed it. “It’s okay. Did you know disaster survivors get together in support groups? Just like we’re doing, so they can vent and laugh and cry and connect on a level that’s impossible with anyone else who didn’t experience what they did.”
She sniffed and lowered her other hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m really glad you called. When Zak told me he and Lexi were having dinner tonight, I was hoping he’d invite me and she’d invite you. He didn’t catch on to my hints. I guess a support group wasn’t what he had in mind.”
“Zak and Lexi? Dinner?”
“You didn’t know?”
She shook her head. “I moved into a motel on Thursday. I needed to be alone.”
Concern registered on his face. “Claire. This isn’t the time to be alone.”
“I’ll give you the short version.” She explained the current status of her marriage.
“I’m sorry.”
“So I haven’t talked with anyone for a few days. Is Zak a nice guy?”
“Yeah, he is. I’ve worked with him for about three years. You can trust him with your daughter. And you’re changing the subject.”
“Yep. Enough about me. How are you?”
His eyes crinkled again, and grin lines deepened around his mouth. “Way better than you.”
“Well, aren’t you special?”
His laughter filled the shop and turned contagious for other patrons. Even Claire joined in, one giggle at a time.
“I’ve been in some serious fires.” Eddie grew somber. “I never came that close to dying, though. It started to sink in when I saw Indio’s wall of crosses. It was one of those ‘whoa!’ moments.”
“And their Bible not burning?”
“It wasn’t so much that; I’ve seen that happen before. I chalk it up to another example of weird phenomena that happen with fire. Amazing, yes. But this was different. I saw that paneled wall with wood frames and crosses and whatnots hanging on it, right next to a blown-out window where incredible heat came roaring in, and nothing was burned? Now we’re talking beyond weird phenomena.”
Claire recalled the blackened, melted kitchen and Indio’s corner. It nearly glowed in contrast to the rest of the room.
He said, “It was like God saying, ‘Hey, you, the bozo firefighter, pay attention.’”
“The wall is special to Indio. At the dinner table a few nights ago, she said it was her gift to Jesus, and that on Monday night, He gave it back to her.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. He’s very real to her. A real Person who lives inside of her.”
“What about for you?”
Claire’s mind spun back to a time when she wept at an altar, in sorrow and in joy. “Thirty years ago I asked Him to live inside me. That was good and wonderful, and He turned my life around. Then . . . I don’t know. He got me squared away, and life was fine. I loved being a wife and mom. I enjoyed being involved with schools and community things. I kept all the rules the best I could. Took the kids to church, didn’t swear, didn’t lie about big things, didn’t drink or smoke, didn’t gossip, didn’t steal or commit murder, didn’t take over for Max as head of the family. What are you grinning at?”
“You just described what I learned as a kid—except the part about not taking over for Max. I don’t remember that rule.”
“Ha-ha.”
“You were saying?”
“That I kept all the rules.” She thought a minute. “I still pray, because I believe God exists. I know He saved us Monday night. But He’s not very real to me.”
He nodded.
“I broke that last rule big-time a couple months ago. I usurped Max’s position by giving him an ultimatum.”
“What’d you say?”
“Choose me or his agency.”
“Ow. That had to hurt.”
“It did. Ben and Indio and my friend Tandy tell me that Max needed to hear some hard truths. They say it’s all right I did that. I don’t think it’s all right with God, though. I mean, I’ve single-handedly dismantled my family.”
“‘Single-handedly’ is a big word. I’d say you’re probably giving yourself way too much credit on that one.”
She shrugged.
“Well,” he said, “I chucked the whole religion thing when I was a teenager. But seeing that wall the other morning sure brought me up short. I’ve been asking myself ever since, if God is real, what does that mean to me?” He paused. “Did you know a dozen firefighters were injured in the fire and eight people died?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“The ones who died were in a similar situation to ours. The fire encircled them like it did us.” He snapped his fingers. “Why them and not me? It’s not fair. It doesn’t make sense. Unless God is real and for some reason chose to give me a second chance at life. Which begs the question, what do I do now?”
She had no reply. Obviously she’d blown her second chance, bailing out on her family.
“I didn’t come up with an answer. It’s probably a step-by-step thing.” He tilted his head, eyeing her with a peculiar expression on his face.
“What?”
“Have you eaten dinner?”
“Uh, no. I haven’t been hungry. I should get going, though. It’s late, and I’m tired.”
“How’s your anger and confusion?”
She smiled. “Less than when I arrived here, thank you.”
“What was the other thing . . . Oh yeah. On the verge of a nerv-ous breakdown. Still there?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then this was a successful support group meeting. We can do it again, if you’d like.” There was no pressure in his kind voice.
A sense of peace settled about her, lessening even further the anger, confusion, and anxieties she arrived with. But she knew the respite was momentary. The unsettledness would return, because her life truly was a mess. One fiery night didn’t fix anything; it only complicated things.
Except she’d met this safe harbor of a fireman.
“Yes,” she said. “I’d like.”
He grinned. He had a very nice grin, an ear-to-ear, jovial expression.
Maybe Eddie was indeed a hero of biblical proportions.