into two.
Two days had morphed into three.
Ethan was still on the island, looking after his aunt’s beloved dog, Peaches. He had no idea when he’d be returning to New York. Aunt Birdie had cracked her pelvis, but thankfully it would heal without surgery. However, her recovery required her to spend a bit of time in physical rehab. Sunny Days Rehabilitation Center—the cheapest of the expensive alternatives—was located just outside of Boston.
The bad news was that Ethan had been sleeping on the lumpiest couch on earth. He shrugged one shoulder and then the other before rolling his head, trying to work out the kinks. He’d already tried his aunt’s bed, which was too soft and too short with a footboard that prevented him from dangling his feet over the end.
Too bad his aunt’s house was a small one-bedroom bungalow. He knew why she never sold the house. It was situated on the edge of town along Surfside Drive. The sweeping covered porch had an unobstructed view of the ocean. Talk about your million-dollar view. And in the summer, Aunt Birdie would open all of the windows to let in the sea breeze.
He closed his eyes again, not quite ready to face the day. The clip-clip of footsteps over the hardwood floors let him know that Peaches was growing impatient for him to get up.
Last night, after giving his parents an update on Aunt Birdie’s progress, he might have stayed up until well past midnight watching an action movie, but it wasn’t like he had any place to be until later in the day. His aunt had therapy in the mornings, so he tried to be at the physical rehab facility at lunchtime.
Though the last time he was there, she had insisted he not make the lengthy journey from Bluestar Island to Boston each day to visit her. She was making friends at the center and promised she’d be fine. She said it was more important that he spend time with Peaches. That was his aunt, always thinking of others before herself.
A whiff of dog breath preceded a swipe of a wet tongue over his cheek. Yep, it was time to get up. Ethan ran the back of his hand over his face. And yet the rest of him didn’t move. It was just too much effort.
“Just a little longer,” Ethan pleaded with the dog. With his eyes still closed, he reached out and ran his hand over Peaches’s furry back.
Arf. Arf.
With a groan, he got up. After letting Peaches out in the small fenced-in yard, Ethan grabbed a quick shower, hoping the pulsating hot water would ease his stiff muscles. It didn’t. At least not much.
Once Peaches ate, they headed out for their morning walk to Beachcomber Drive and a stroll to the far end of the park. Peaches wagged her tail and greeted a few familiar faces. At that hour, most people were working or getting on with their day.
Ethan loved listening to the roar of the surf as the salty sea breeze rushed past him. It was as though it swept away all of his troubles—at least temporarily.
He paused at the intersection, checking for traffic before crossing. It took him a moment to remember there wouldn’t be any cars or trucks zipping up the street. With this being a small island, vehicles were prohibited unless issued a special day permit. He’d left his truck at one of the many parking lots on the mainland and taken the ferry to the island. Once on Bluestar, people got around via golf carts, bikes, or walking. It had always been that way. And he supposed it would remain that way. Bluestar was steeped in traditions that went back generations—
A scream pierced the peaceful morning air.
Peaches ears immediately perked up.
“Come on, girl.”
His feet pounded the sidewalk. Peaches kept pace with him. The firefighter part of him instantly took over. Adrenaline flooded his system. He listened for another scream to make sure he was headed in the right direction, but it was quiet now.
He slowed down and glanced between each building. And then he spotted a young woman with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had a hand pressed to her mouth. She was staring straight ahead at the side of a building.
He gave her curvy figure a quick once-over. She appeared to be physically all right. Could the scream have come from her?
His gaze moved to the building. It didn’t appear to have any smoke coming from it. After all of these years on the job, it was one of the first things he checked.
He approached the young woman. “Excuse me. Do you need some help?”
When her wide-eyed gaze met his, he felt a distinct jolt. It felt like the Earth had spontaneously sped up for just a moment, leaving him unsteady on his feet. And yet he knew nothing like that had happened. Logic dictated that the Earth continued to spin at its same steady rate—even if Ethan’s world felt a bit off center.
Whatever the reason for the strange sensation, he didn’t have time to evaluate it. She was in trouble and he was there to help—just like he’d been doing for strangers year after year.
The closer he got to her, the wetter the ground became. What in the world? He didn’t recall it raining while he’d been on the island.
“My bakery.” She never moved her gaze from the building. “It’s ruined.”
He stepped up next to her as water continued to gush out the door. To have this much water, it had to be a burst water pipe. What a mess!
“I have to stop it.” She took a step toward the door.
Ethan immediately reached out, grabbing her arm.
She turned to glare at him. “What are you doing? Let go!”
He wouldn’t release his hold. Not yet. “You can’t go in there.”
“Of course, I can.”
“You’ll get electrocuted.”
“What?”
He pointed to the wires hanging from the partially collapsed ceiling that were arching, hissing, and snapping. “Until the electricity is off, you could get electrocuted.”
“But the circuit breakers are on the other side of the kitchen. I have to go in.” She yanked on her arm, but he tightened his hold.
She wasn’t the first person he’d had to restrain from doing something dangerous. When people were panicked or in shock, as this woman appeared to be, they didn’t make the safest choices. Experience told him to keep his tone steady and level. Getting frustrated would only make matters worse.
“Let go of me now!” Her jade green eyes shot daggers at him.
“If I do, will you promise not to rush inside?” He had to be sure she wouldn’t risk her safety.
She hesitated. “Fine. Yes.”
He continued to hold her for just a moment longer. “Did you call for help?”
“No. I didn’t have a chance.” She yanked on her arm again.
This time he let go. However, he didn’t take his gaze off her. He didn’t care how mad she got at him; he wasn’t going to let her get hurt. Not on his watch.
She gave him another distinct frown as she reached in her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She punched in the numbers. A brief conversation ensued. After she disconnected the call, the distinct wail of the old fire whistle, mounted atop the fire station, peeled through the air.
“Stay here. I’ll be back,” he said.
“Where are you going?” The anger that reflected in her eyes had been replaced with worry.
“I’m going to see if I can shut off the water at the road. There should be a shut off valve there.” On second thought, he didn’t feel good about leaving her alone. He still didn’t trust her. “Come with me.”
“Why?”
His brain raced for a plausible reason. “So you can hold onto Peaches’s leash while you flag down the fire truck.”
She gave him a strange look. “They know where the bakery is. It’s the only one on the island.”
He inwardly groaned. “Would you rather stand here and argue, or you could come with me and I’ll see if I can get the water turned off?”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
He handed over the red leash. While the woman moved to the curb and looked down the street for impending help, he searched the bushes in the front of the building. And then on the other side, he found a metal cap. He pried it off and found the water shut off. But it was down deep.
He took off his jacket and then lowered himself to the grass. With his chest flat on the cold, hard ground, he reached his arm down the narrow pipe. He grasped the valve. He attempted to turn it. It didn’t budge. He gripped it tighter. Gritting his teeth, he gave it every bit of strength he possessed.
He wasn’t sure it was going to budge. And then it gave way, turning with a screech.
He got to his feet and dusted off his shirt and then his hands. He walked over to where the young woman was standing next to the curb. “The water’s off.”
“It is?” she asked as though needing reassurance that this nightmare wasn’t going to get any worse. When he nodded, she said, “Thank you.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d been thanked for his efforts, but the look of relief reflected in her eyes and the sincerity in her voice stirred a warm spot in his chest.
As though recalling that she was still holding Peaches’s leash, she held it out to him. When he reached for it, their fingers brushed. A tingling sensation started in his fingertips and then worked its way up his arm before settling in his chest.
She jerked her hand away as though she too had been affected by their brief connection. Her gaze met his briefly before she glanced back at the quiet roadway. “You…you don’t have to wait.”
“I don’t mind.” He didn’t want to leave her alone when she was clearly upset.
“It takes them a little bit since it’s a volunteer service. They don’t stay at the station. They all have other jobs and stuff.”
“I understand.” He didn’t know what to say next. His mind drew a blank. And so he stood by quietly while the young woman knelt down to love on Peaches, who happily ate up the attention.
A few quiet moments passed and then the truck siren could be heard in the distance. As the fire engine grew closer, Ethan glanced over at the young woman, there were tears in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Help is here.”
She swiped at her cheeks. “I…I know. Don’t mind me.”
He should say more—something comforting. But before he could speak, she moved to the street to greet the firefighters. He had this gut feeling that something more was troubling her, but being a stranger, it wasn’t his place to pry.
A short, stout man with his turnouts on and Chief emblazoned in gold on the front of his black helmet moved from the engine to the sidewalk. “Hannah, what’s going on?”
So that’s her name. A pretty name for a pretty lady.
At that moment, she looked as though she was having problems keeping her emotions in check. Ethan felt sorry for her. He spoke up and filled the chief in on everything that had happened so far.
“Thanks,” the chief said. “We’ve got it from here.”
The chief started yelling orders to his men before speaking into his mic to dispatch, requesting the power company cut the electricity to the building. Ethan took a step back and watched as the firefighters rushed past him. He wasn’t used to being relegated to the position of mere observer. It felt wrong to do nothing.
The firefighters had a pump, a generator, and some fans prepared to take in the building once the power was cut. For a volunteer company, they moved with practiced ease. Their chief obviously kept a tight house.
Ethan’s attention turned back to Hannah. A frown pulled at her pink lips. Her fine brows were drawn together, creating worry lines. It was only then that he noticed her pale complexion.
With the men rushing back and forth in the narrow space, they were in the way. “Come with me,” Ethan said to her. When she resisted, he said, “We won’t go far. Let’s just move out of the way so they can do their work.”
She hesitated. But when a firefighter bumped into her, she turned to Ethan and nodded her agreement. He led the way to the sidewalk across the street. He moved to a quiet spot and sat down. She looked at him and then at the sidewalk.
“What? You never sat on the curb as a kid?” Growing up, he’d spent a lot of time sitting or standing on a curb in Brooklyn near his buddy’s house.
She didn’t say a word as she left a respectable distance between them. Peaches sat between them. Hannah stared straight ahead, looking as though she’d just lost her best friend. The longer the silence wore on, the more he worried about her. She was taking this hard. It wasn’t like it was the end of the world.
“Do you work at the bakery?” he asked, trying to make conversation.
She shook her head. “Worse.”
He found the response rather odd. “I don’t understand.”
“I own it.”
Oh. He opened his mouth. Then he promptly closed it. He’d forgotten her saying “my bakery.” Now all of her prior actions were starting to take on a new meaning. No wonder she’d been so desperate to save the building.
The sadness reflected in her eyes prompted him to speak. “I’m sorry this happened.”
“Me too.” Her voice was soft, but the raw pain was still evident.
“If there’s anything I can do to help.”
She shook her head. “Thanks.”
Somehow he knew that was what she was going to say. But he wasn’t going to give up that easily. There had to be something to say—something to do—that would ease some of her distress.
“Hannah!” A blond young woman that he recalled seeing around town came rushing up to her.
Hannah jumped to her feet. Immediately the women hugged. He felt bad for not being able to comfort her, but he was glad someone was now there for her.
When the women parted, he realized where he’d seen the other woman—at the café. If he spent enough time there, he was pretty certain he’d bump into everyone in town. The Lighthouse Café was popular when he was a kid, and it appeared things hadn’t changed over the years.
He got to his feet. He considered saying goodbye, but Hannah was already engrossed in conversation about the incident. He was no longer needed here.
Ethan turned his attention back to the bakery. He knew from experience that there was going to be a lot of damage from the water, starting with the caved-in ceiling. But he had no doubt it was all fixable. And now that the fire department had a pump and line running, the water was quickly being drawn out.
Just then the fire chief started across the street. He came to a stop in front of Ethan. “You did good work shutting off the water.”
Ethan shrugged off the compliment. “I just did what needed done.”
The man eyed him up. “Most people wouldn’t have known what to do.”
“I’m a firefighter.”
The chief’s gray brows rose. “It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out a hand. “Chief Campbell.”
He shook the man’s hand. “Ethan Walker.”
“What house are you with?”
“Engine two fifty-six in Brooklyn, New York.”
The chief nodded. “A ways from home.”
“My aunt, well, my great-aunt got hurt and I’m sticking around to help her out.”
“You wouldn’t be Birdie’s nephew, would you?”
Ethan smiled at how small Bluestar was that the chief would be able to deduce who his aunt was. “Yes, sir.”
“How’s Birdie doing?”
“Much better than originally thought. The doctors thought she’d need surgery, but luckily it was a hairline break and a lot of bruising. It should heal on its own.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“I won’t keep you.”
“Hey, you should stop by the firehouse. Visitors are always welcome. And we could use a new volunteer. That is if you’re sticking around for a bit.”
The invitation appealed to him. He did miss his buddies back in Brooklyn. “Thanks for the invite. I’ll stop by, but just for a visit. I still have a job waiting for me back in the city.”
The chief nodded in understanding just as someone called out his name. “I’ll see you soon.”
As the chief made his way along the side of the bakery, Ethan knew it was time for him to get a move on. He needed to catch the ferry to the mainland in order to visit his aunt.
When he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of Hannah. Her face was still pale and drawn. Then again, maybe he’d stick around for a few more minutes just to be sure the pretty lady with the stroke of bad luck didn’t need any other assistance.
Ethan turned and made his way back toward Hannah. He wasn’t sure what else to say to her, but that didn’t slow him down.