13

We cruised around town randomly. I leaned into Scott’s side and let myself relax. Though the issue of Pinewood Manor remained unresolved, I floated on a cloud of peace and gratefulness.

Scott softly sang a tune I recognized, about walking together in the rain. I joined in.

“Ahh…a John Denver fan, too?” Scott peered at me sideways.

“Mom played his music all the time. I probably know the words to all his songs.” I continued to hum the tune.

“My mom, too. The only entertainer Mom loved more than John Denver was Jimmy Stewart. She actually stood in the grocery store parking lot crying her eyes out when she saw the newspaper headline that he died.” Scott’s wistful grin produced that distracting dimple. His eyes misted over.

“Let’s drive up to Pinewood Manor.” I knew Darryl might be there, but I wanted to see it.

“You sure?” Scott’s eyes widened as he turned his head toward me.

“Yes, it’s my house, after all.” I gently pushed his face back toward the road. “Watch where you’re going.”

“Your house, that’s right. Sure, let’s go.” He turned the car out of town toward the mansion.

My head rested on his shoulder. I could have dozed except for loud fire truck sirens. I normally prayed silently when emergency vehicles passed. Little did I know how badly I would need answers to those prayers.

I sat bolt upright in my seat and gripped the dashboard with both hands. “Those fire trucks are headed straight for my house!”

Scott peeled my hand from the dashboard and held it to his heart. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Bailey, but your face is scaring me. God is with us. It might not be Pinewood.”

“But there’s nothing else up there.” I prayed silently as another fire truck passed us.

The pressure of his hand tightly holding mine calmed me a bit. He whispered prayers aloud and quoted scriptures alternately. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart…”

Trust in the Lord. Trust in the Lord…I focused on that thought, but hardly breathed until we pulled into the driveway of Pinewood Manor.

Police cars lined the road to Gran’s. My blood ran cold when I saw the blaze. The fire seemed concentrated on the north wing of the house. We couldn’t get through so we stopped the car and got out to run.

The firefighters didn’t seem to be making much headway. The fire spread from the north wing to the back of the house and rapidly worked its way forward.

“It will be a total loss, I’m afraid,” one of the firemen said as he passed. “Somebody better call their insurance agent.”

My mother arrived and came up beside me, sinking to the ground. She rocked on her knees in the grass, dissolved in tears. I felt like a cold, steel blade turned and twisted at the core of my heart. I sank to the ground next her. We fell into each other’s arms and stared in horror at the sight before us.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Scott take an ax from the nearest fire truck and sprint toward the house.

“Scott! No!” I screamed.

He kicked in the glass front door and crawled in. Smoke came billowing out of the door. I tried to run to him, but my mother and those around me restrained me. What was he thinking?

I held my breath as fire continued to consume my family’s legacy. Timbers cracked, windows popped. And Scott remained inside.

I cried against my mother, never taking my eyes off the home. The firefighters’ hoses sprayed water onto the roof, into the windows. Still, flames licked at the curtains—my grandmother’s lacy window coverings. She’d scrimped and saved for those, and she’d always taken meticulous care of them. Gone.

But I didn’t care. Something more precious than my legacy remained inside the burning house, and I loved him with all my heart.

Dear God, please don’t let my foolish relationship with Darryl take the life of Scott. I love him, Lord. He’s my future.

Scott stumbled out of the front door and onto the ground, gasping for breath. He cradled something in both arms. Two firefighters ran to him and helped him up, getting him away from the house. They put an oxygen mask on him, but he waved it away.

Tears of relief flowed freely down my face as I ran to him. He handed me my grandmother’s journals, photo albums, and the little letter box.

“You risked your life for this? Don’t you know that if you had died, none of this would have mattered to me?” I had both my hands on his shoulders and shook him silly. His eyes widened and tears made tracks down his sooty face. He started to speak, but wrapped me in a smoky embrace. He turned my head away from the burning mansion.

My mother let loose a blood curdling scream. “There’s someone else inside the house!”

We all turned.

A gasp stuck in my throat. My heart raced. Darryl struggled against the flames, trying to break the great room windows with a chair. I held my breath. Firemen raced to the scene. They chopped him out and pulled him, coughing and gasping, a safe distance from the blaze. First responders dashed over with a gurney.

As they rolled him past our little group, I stared down into his pain-seared face. Terror emanated from his eyes. I prayed silently as they put him in the ambulance.

“Bailey, there’s nothing more we can do here now,” Mom said. “I’m going to the hospital. He doesn’t have anyone here.” My mother switched into her nursing zone and headed for her car.

In spite of everything, I felt terrible for Darryl. I’d never seen him need anything before. Our whole relationship had been a farce, but I couldn’t leave him alone in this. I pulled away from Scott and took a step to join my mother.

Scott grabbed my hand. I turned to look at him. His eyes questioned me, but then he nodded understanding. I clutched my grandmother’s things to my heart and whispered,

“Thank you.”

The second story of the mansion crashed and crumbled to the ground. I heard Gran’s voice whisper to my heart, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

I’m not there yet, Gran.

~*~

“Bailey.” My mother’s voice gently woke me. I’d fallen asleep in the hospital waiting room. I sat up and blinked the sleep from my eyes.

“How is he?”

“A rough night for Darryl.”

“Have they transferred him to the burn unit in Dallas?”

She shook her head. “It looks like mostly first degree burns on his arms. Although he looked black all over, it was mostly soot. His burns are mostly superficial. It’s a miracle, but…” She sat and put her arm around me.

“But what?” Had he been hurt in some other way? The numbness in my head cleared. Why did I even care?

She lowered her voice. “He will recover from his burns, but I’m afraid he’s in serious trouble.”

“What kind of trouble? You mean the fact that he is in debt to loan sharks and perpetrated a fraud against me that has caught up with him?” I whispered back.

My mom blanched at this announcement. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her all that had taken place in Mr. Ballard’s office. I briefly filled her in.

“Whoa, that’s crazy. I guess it doesn’t matter now, though. The police think Darryl started the fire.” She held me tighter.

I stared back at her in shock. Why was I so surprised? Had he seen Pinewood Manor—his way out of a half million dollar debt—slipping through his hands in my lawyer’s office? If he couldn’t have it, neither would I? This was more than my tired brain could handle. I couldn’t even cry because it made my head pound harder.

I needed to think about something else. I’d called the insurance agent. My eyes glazed over as I thought about what a long process we’d have to go through. So many decisions to make. I mentioned it to Mom.

“At least we have the list of contents and everything in Mr. Ballard’s office. Still, it’s going to take some time. They will send an adjustor and…” Mom continued to explain what would likely happen next. I knew the importance of it all, and that it was my responsibility, but my head swam. The loss was more than I could take in.

“Bailey, are you all right?” Mom put both her hands on my face.

“I’ll take her home, Mrs. Brown.” Scott stood in the doorway. He gave my mother a hug and took me by the hand.

“I’d appreciate it.” Mom hugged me. “She really needs some rest.”

“What about you, Mom? You must be exhausted.” I reached up and caressed her tired face.

“Just a few more hours in my shift. I’ll make it. You go on now.” She turned me around and gently pushed me out the door.

I sat in the passenger seat while Scott drove. “Where to? Your mother’s, your apartment, or…”

I looked into his eyes and knew he understood. This trauma had established some kind of unspoken bond between us. He headed toward Shelley’s Heart as a soft rain began to fall.

I apparently fell asleep on Scott’s shoulder because I woke in his arms, being carried up the porch steps toward the front door. Rain still misted the air.

I’d always wanted to be carried by a romantic lover that way, but the dream would always come crashing down because I would imagine the prince huffing and puffing because of my weight. Scott didn’t seem strained. His air of protection and concern warmed me to the bottom of my heart.

“Here you go.” He lowered me to the ground by the door, holding me until I found my balance, and then he kissed me on the cheek. “Go to bed, sleepyhead.” He took off his cap and rubbed his head, tousling his hair into a mess. I noticed then how tired he looked. He must have been up all night as well.

“Bad night?” I smoothed his hair and kissed him back on the cheek.

“I went back to the fire and stayed until it was all over. There’s some house left, but not much. The guest house in the back is still standing, but even that’s smoke damaged. You did have insurance, right?” He unlocked the front door and stood with the screen in hand as I slipped past him into the house.

“Of course. Quite a large amount actually.” Those last few words came out in a wide yawn.

“Whoa, better hit the hay, little lady. I’ve got to check on Dad.” He yawned as well. “Also, gotta make sure the Pearson brothers have the washout under control.”

“Try to get a nap yourself, OK?” I put my hands on his cheeks and looked directly into his eyes. “I mean it.”

“Sure, I will.” He grinned, deepening those dimples. I knew he wouldn’t get a nap at all.

“Scott, why did you risk your life for my grandmother’s things?”

“We’ll talk about that later.” He smiled and then kissed the air. “Go to bed.” He gently shoved me behind the door and closed it.

Too keyed up to sleep yet, even though I couldn’t stop yawning, I walked around the bed-and-breakfast. I marveled at how much more at home I felt here than at my apartment. I wandered into the kitchen and fixed myself a glass of water. A light rain tickled at the kitchen window. I opened the back door and let the cool breeze and misty spray coat my face and blow my hair. The image of a destroyed Pinewood Manor sharpened against the muddled fatigue in my brain.

What now, Lord?

Gran’s house was gone. My house, my future home. Should I rebuild? Maybe there was enough insurance coverage to help me take care of Mom in her old age. I’d always planned to do that. It’s my fault she’s alone, anyway. If I hadn’t been so stupid in the first place, there never would have been any Darryl, any fire. What would happen to him now?

I knew I reverted to my old, self-destructive thought processes, but strength eluded me at that moment.

Then, Gran’s words settled on me. “Sometimes the godliest thing you can do, Bailey, is get some sleep.”

Yes, ma’am.

I fairly melted into the bed in the Adirondack Room. Sleep finally welcomed me, deeply.

I dreamed of Scott, his face black with soot and streaked with tears, holding out the box that contained the letter from my father. I recoiled as though it were a snake. The sound of axes crashing into the windows of the burning house startled me awake.

No, someone knocked violently on the front door of Shelley’s. I shook the dream from my head and the sleep from my eyes.

“Just a minute,” I called toward the front room and checked to see if I was presentable.

Tracy reached for me as I opened the front door. “Bailey, can you come? Peeps has had another stroke.”