ten
Hannah rubbed her fingers together for some warmth as she hopped out of Thomas’s truck and approached the first condemned house. She pulled her coat tighter and expelled a sigh. Twenty days into April should not be cold enough to freeze water. Where had this front come from?
Of course, rising at dawn didn’t help. But she wanted to catch the houses with the morning sun. Her fingers shook as she withdrew a set of keys from her pocket and found the right one. The metal bit into her fingers as she forced the lock to turn. The creaking door and dim room added to the creep factor.
“Boo.”
Hannah screamed and whipped around, nearly smacking Janie in the process. “Really?”
“Payback for getting me up on the first Saturday I don’t have to open.” Janie followed her in, rubbing her arms. “Why did you want to come back here?”
“I’m creating a photo journal so the judges can appreciate how much demolishing these houses benefits the town.” She lifted the camera that hung around her neck and eyed the room through the lens. “I need to get some shots before the asbestos removal crew comes through.”
“You want photos of an old stained couch with a melon-sized hole chewed out of it? And let me say, whatever made that better be long gone.” Janie released a shiver. “And don’t forget the lovely scent of rot and mildew mingling in the air. You should make the photos scratch and sniff.”
Hannah pulled back the curtain to let in more light. She lifted her camera, adjusted the aperture, and snapped a few pictures. She flipped on the display and held it out to Janie. “See?”
Janie shoved her hands in her pockets. “Why did you drop your art major? I assumed you’d just lost your passion for art, but now it’s clear that isn’t the case.”
Lost her passion? If only she could. Hannah stepped over a broken chair and ignored the crunch under her foot. “My mom didn’t find much use for her art in Heritage.”
“You’ve let the fact that your mom left hang over you too long. When we hold the broken pieces of our lives too close, they’ll cut us up inside.”
Hannah squatted to see the room from a new angle. “I should just forget?”
“Give the pieces to God. See what He can do with them.”
Just give them to God? Like it was that easy.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Hannah moved an old pop can out of the way. Then lined up the next shot.
“Do you wait on Him, or do you push forward with your own answer?”
Is that what she did? Hannah snapped a photo, then another.
Janie leaned against the wall, but a slight creaking sent her scampering back toward the door. “Why do you have Thomas’s truck, anyway?”
Hannah ran her hand across the back of the faded green couch that screamed 1949. “I didn’t know if there’d be anything I’d want to keep in here.”
“In here?” Janie dusted off her hands. “That’s being optimistic. I’ve got to go soon. Are you almost done?”
Hannah nodded and followed Janie out. The second house wasn’t worth their time. The last house on the end had more junk than the rest, more stench than the rest, and even a metal spring sticking out of the side of an old wingback chair. “Maybe I have enough photos.”
Janie clapped and hopped off the porch. “I agree.”
Hannah started to close the door when a black metal stove nestled in the corner caught her eye. “What in the world?”
“No, Hannah. Come back. You said we were done.” Janie’s voice carried in from the front lawn.
Hannah stepped over a broken pot and ran her hand across the old cast iron. She was no expert on antiques, but it looked old.
Janie leaned in the front door. “We’re done. I heard you say it.”
Hannah waved her over. “It looks like the stove from the photos of the one-room schoolhouse that I saw at town hall. Then again, there’s a chance all potbelly stoves from this era looked somewhat similar.”
Janie dodged a dresser that had been tipped on its side. “You want a picture of it?”
“I want to keep it.” Hannah gripped the cold metal and leaned into it. It was bolted down, but one of Luke’s tools would take care of that. “We could put it in the Manor when we make it a museum.”
Janie glanced at her watch. “I have to run and change and then get to work. How about we do this later?”
“Go. I won’t be much longer.”
“You sure it’s worth it?” Janie’s face wrinkled as she eyed the room.
“Yes. Now go. I’ll be fine.” Hannah waved off Janie as she evaluated the distance from the stove to the door. If she could get a few people to help move it, she could stick it in the bed of Thomas’s truck. But she needed to make this as easy as possible, or she’d have a lot of people who saw it like Janie did—not worth it. And heavy, cold metal was hard on the hands. At least she could make a clear path to start.
Hannah flexed her fingers against the numbness setting in. It wasn’t like she could turn on the heater. Or could she? She had a space heater at home, but that required electricity. Her dad had owned a portable kerosene heater he’d used to warm the garage. Thomas still used it occasionally. She could grab that and be back and still have time to get the stove out before the house showing this afternoon.
Twenty minutes later, she’d returned with the heater.
She slipped out of the truck as Jimmy skipped toward her on the sidewalk, his coat unzipped and his shoes untied. Luke walked a few paces behind, his cap pulled low and his hands deep in his pockets.
Hannah leaned against the bed of the truck. “What are you two up to this morning?”
Luke’s head snapped up and a slow smile curled his lips.
Hannah’s heart offered a little hop, and she chastised herself. Since the treehouse, she had lectured herself over and over to keep her thoughts in check. They were friends. Period. But as she looked at him now with those faded jeans low on his hips and the gray sweatshirt emphasizing the width of his shoulders, her brain was ready to check out.
Luke eyed the house behind her. His expression revealed nothing.
“I beat Luke in basketball, and now he owes me ice cream.” Jimmy ran farther down the sidewalk to the corner and jumped on the back of Otis. The hippo had moved there last week, facing the row of houses as if he’d come to say goodbye.
“Isn’t it too cold for ice cream?”
“It’s never too cold for ice cream.” Jimmy slid down the hippo’s shiny nose.
Luke’s gaze followed Jimmy. “Careful.” He turned back to Hannah and opened his mouth as if to say something but paused.
“Come on, Luke.” Jimmy waved him over from where he stood on Otis’s back.
Maybe she should ask him to help with the stove.
“Be safe.” Luke nodded once at Hannah and turned away. He jogged to catch up with Jimmy, then the pair crossed 2nd Street to Donny’s as Jimmy rattled off his favorite flavors.
Maybe she’d call him once it was warmed up inside. Hannah pulled the heater from the truck and carried it into the house. Five minutes later it was lit, and the musty odor had been replaced by the sharp scent of kerosene. Could she get carbon monoxide poisoning from a kerosene heater? She wasn’t taking any chances. She opened a window a crack to let a little fresh air in, then held her hands over the warming stove. Her fingers thanked her as the warmth seeped back into them.
She’d have to give the cast-iron stove a bit of time to warm up, but if she timed it right, it should be warm enough about the time Luke passed by again. Maybe she’d text him to make sure she didn’t miss him. She pulled her phone from her pocket. Dead battery. She’d forgotten to charge it again.
She leaned over and gave the couch a shove. It moved an inch. She coughed again and stood. Maybe Luke could help move that too.
She stepped into the other room. This unit definitely had more unique junk than the others. An old wringer washtub sat in the corner, a broom and rags sticking out the top. Maybe they could save that too. She snapped a few photos before dropping the camera back around her neck.
An unfamiliar, bitter odor filled the air and stung her eyes as a haze thicker than the dust swirled in the room.
What in the world? Hannah hurried to the main room and froze. The breeze from the partially opened window had blown the bottom half of the threadbare cotton curtains over the heater. Orange and yellow flames licked up the material, reaching out and igniting the peeled-back edges of the wallpaper.
Fire!
Water!
Wait, there was no water in the house. She yanked her phone from her pocket, but it tumbled to the floor as her fingers shook. She crouched and felt around for it. Her stinging eyes refused to stay open. Had her phone slid across the wood floor? Not that it mattered. It was dead.
Across the room, orange flames crawled across the ceiling, and a section of ignited wallpaper dropped on the old couch.
Stop. Think. People died because they panicked. She couldn’t fix this. Couldn’t stop the fire. She had to get out. She coughed against the thickening smoke. She had to get out fast.
Hannah covered her mouth with the collar of her jacket, staggered to the front door, and then bolted across the road and shoved through the double doors of the bank. “Call . . . 911.” She drew a gasp of air. “Fire . . . across . . . street.”
Smoke leaking out one of the windows of the house was now visible through the bank’s front window. The trail lifted skyward, growing by the second. She’d wanted the old houses to burn, but not like this. Luke’s words of warning flooded her mind. This was no longer going to be a controlled burn.
He hated leaving Hannah to work in those houses alone, but there was no way Luke could bail on Jimmy to help her. This kid needed to know some adults could be trusted.
Ice cream dribbled down Jimmy’s chin and a line of hot fudge rimmed his lips.
“Are you sure you can finish that?” Luke picked up his spoon and pretended to reach for the mess of a sundae.
Jimmy pulled it closer as he offered Luke the evil eye. “Don’t even think about it. I won fair and square.”
Luke laughed and dropped his spoon. Fair and square? Well, that was a matter of perspective, but he wouldn’t let Jimmy know that he may have been a little off on his game on purpose. At least for some of the shots. For others he’d really been off on his game. No doubt a certain brunette and the mixed signals she’d offered the other day had something to do with it.
What had she meant when she’d said she wanted to bid on him? The conversation had echoed through his mind on repeat ever since, and he still couldn’t make sense of it. Did that mean she wanted a date with him? Then again, she’d also followed up with the fact that she hadn’t planned on winning the bid. So maybe he was reading too much into it.
He eyed the front door, willing her to walk in. Partly because he wanted to see her and partly because he wanted to know she was out of those houses. If she wasn’t done by the time he walked Jimmy home, he’d drag her with him. Why she needed to record every detail with her camera was beyond him. But arguing with her when her mind was made up was pointless.
“Call 911!” Olivia shouted as she pointed out the front window. “There’s a fire across the street in one of those old houses.”
Luke jumped to his feet and bolted toward the door. Halfway across the diner, he paused and pointed back at Jimmy. “You stay put until I come for you.” Locking eyes with Janie as he passed, he added, “Watch Jimmy. Hannah’s over there.”
Luke shoved through the diner’s door and scanned the area. No sign of Hannah anywhere. He broke into a sprint and closed the forty yards in a matter of seconds. “Hannah!” he yelled into the house. But the roar of the fire muffled his words.
The front door of the house stood open as black smoke billowed out, but it had been standing open when he’d walked by earlier, so that didn’t offer much hope.
He couldn’t lose her.
He drew the corner of his shirt over his face and bent low to avoid the worst of the smoke, not that it helped much. Why couldn’t fire offer more visibility, like on television shows? Real fire was unbearably hot, and real smoke was an oppressive, lung-torturing blackness.
He plunged in and dropped to his knees. If he found Hannah now, she’d be passed out on the floor. His hope started to rise when an initial search of the first ten feet revealed nothing but increasing darkness and heat. But another swipe connected his hand with her phone. No way would she leave her phone.
Luke’s stomach churned as he resisted the urge to call out to Hannah. Doing so would only expose his lungs to more smoke. Even so, his lungs burned as if the fire was inside his body, his thoughts muddled. If only he’d been in full gear with a mask and an oxygen tank. Luke gave one last desperate swipe across the wood floor, gritting his teeth as a piercing pain ripped through his arm into his shoulder. Sticky liquid covered his hands.
He struggled to stay conscious. He couldn’t leave Hannah. But what good would he be if he passed out in here? It’d slow the rescue efforts. If she even still had a chance.
She couldn’t be gone! He needed her. He loved her. Why hadn’t he ever told her? Financial differences and social classes suddenly seemed beyond silly in the face of this fire and death.
If he didn’t get out soon he’d die himself. But which way was out? Clinging to his last shred of control, he willed aside the surging panic and forced his eyes open once more.
Was that light?
It could be a window, and if he couldn’t break it, then he was a goner. But he had to try. Luke scrambled across the floor, finding the phone again. This had to be the right way. He gripped the hard plastic and continued his crawl until the dim light grew to the bright blue of the sky.
He’d barely made it to the porch when muffled shouts met his ears. He crumpled onto the grass, but hands lifted him to his feet once more. The words people were saying didn’t make sense. He tried to stand up and ask about Hannah, but his lungs wouldn’t work. Even in the open, he couldn’t find enough air.
Shaking off the paramedic, he scanned the house again. The structure was fully engulfed now, and the flames were running up the side of the next house.
“Hannah.” All that came out was a hoarse wheeze, followed by another coughing fit that dropped him to his knees. The ache in his chest dwarfed the rawness of his lungs.
A couple sets of hands tried to lift him onto the stretcher. He pushed them away with every last ounce of strength he had left.
“Luke, calm down. You need oxygen,” Ted’s voice shouted from his left. “And they need to look at your shoulder.”
His weakened muscles gave way. “Person . . . in . . .”
Ted turned to face the buildings. “Hannah Thornton assured dispatch they were empty.”
Hannah called them in?
Then her face appeared among the gathering crowd. She’d made it out safely.
Luke closed his eyes. Pain settled in as the adrenaline faded out. Hannah was safe. Wonderful Hannah. Beautiful Hannah. Alive. Safe.
Thomas had backed his truck away from the houses, then started to suit up. By local law, they had to have four men to work a fire. By the time enough of the crew was there, the second house was fully ablaze.
Chief Wilks’s voice came over the radio of the paramedic next to Luke. “We’re going to let them burn, boys. Might as well save us time later. Let’s just keep the third one from catching. Two is enough for now.”
The world grew dark as a plastic mask was dropped over Luke’s face.
The chief’s voice burst through the speaker again. “Get those people back. The wind is shifting. We need to clear the street.”
The explosion of glass echoed through the town as the flames reached higher into the sky. The heat grabbed at them, and the paramedics scrambled to back up the equipment.
Hannah may be safe, but the town wasn’t. Flames licked at the side of the third house as hot cinders floated toward the Manor. If that old wood caught, it could burn the whole town down.
Lord, help us.
Janie could pretend all she wanted, but she was far from over Thomas. Her heart had stopped the second he’d run out the door to help with the fire, and it wouldn’t restart until she could see with her own eyes that he was safe. Until then, she’d continue the never-ending game of UNO with Jimmy.
She dropped a yellow 6 on the stack, trying not to let her eyes swing to the door one more time. It didn’t work. The diner’s once beautiful awning dangled, covering the picture window like a charred piece of Swiss cheese. She shuddered. It had been close.
When the wind had shifted, they’d evacuated 2nd Street, Richard Street, and Teft Road. All Janie could think was to keep hold of Jimmy. The next hours had been a nightmare. The men battled to keep the wind from carrying the fire across 2nd Street as all three houses burned with a vengeance, showering the downwind buildings with embers. They’d even called in two neighboring departments for backup.
“Uno.” Jimmy added a yellow 3 and eyed her as he peeked behind his remaining card. He’d taken the day in stride, and when they gave the all clear for the road again, Janie had brought him here. What else was she supposed to do? Who knew when his foster parents would get home? She’d left a note on the door that Jimmy was here, but according to him, they’d be out of town the whole day.
Janie tossed a blue 3 on the pile.
“You forgot to call Uno. That’s two cards.”
Janie blinked at her one card. “You caught me.” Her phone rang and she snatched it up. “Hey, Mom.”
“Have you heard how Luke is?” Her mother’s soothing voice came over the phone.
“Hannah followed the ambulance to the hospital, but no word yet.”
Her mom hesitated. “And Thomas?”
“I’ve heard he’s fine.” She sent a reassuring smile toward Jimmy, who stared at her instead of his card. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
“Out. I win.” Jimmy tossed his last card down. “Did Luke go to the hospital?”
“Yes.” She gathered up the cards and added them back to the box. “You want an ice cream sundae?”
“I already had one today.”
Janie patted his hand as she stood. “Some days are two-ice-cream-sundae kind of days.”
The boy jumped up. “Yay.”
“First you need an apron.” She grabbed the smallest they had and dropped it around his neck. The bottom of it brushed his feet.
“Now I scoop.” Jimmy stretched toward the scoop but she stopped his hand.
“Now you wash your hands.” Janie ushered Jimmy toward the sink and found him a stool. She poured a little soap on his hands and adjusted the water. “Now scrub.”
The boy’s lips twisted, but he obeyed. “Smells like flowers.”
She handed him a towel and he wiped his hands. He ran back to the ice cream freezer, picked the scoop out of the warm water, and jabbed it into the mint chocolate chip.
Janie added a little weight to get it moving, but he finished it off. “You keep this up and you could have a job here someday.”
The bell jingled and she spun to face the door.
Thomas. Her eyes roamed over him. He was okay. Whole. Breathing. He’d abandoned his gear, but his face was still shadowed with ash and darkened by smoke. His floppy hair crisscrossed in several directions on his head. He was a mess. A beautiful mess.
Tears blurred her vision, and she didn’t bother pushing them away. “Everything okay?”
His eyes studied her, consumed her. Maybe it had been an eye-opening night for both of them.
He took a hesitant step toward her. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he cleared his throat. “Fire’s out. All four buildings—gone.” The rawness of fighting fires for hours had weakened his voice.
“Four?” The Manor had burned. Hannah would be crushed. “And Luke?”
“In the hospital a few days, but he’ll be fine.”
“Whoa. You’re dirty.” Jimmy eyed him from head to foot. “If you want ice cream, she’ll make you wash your hands.”
Thomas’s lips turned up in a smile. “Good to know.” He looked back at Janie. “Why didn’t you leave when they evacuated the area?”
“We did, but we returned when the all clear was given. I had to close up.”
Thomas’s brows pinched. “But I could have—”
Janie nodded toward Jimmy.
“Right.” He focused on Jimmy. “Ice cream, huh? I could use one of those. How about you scoop me some cookies and cream.”
“I’m on it.” Jimmy held up the scoop and then stabbed it into the ice cream. “But I bet she’ll still make you wash. And dude, it smells like flowers.”
Thomas laughed as he stepped toward the kitchen sink. “Good to know.”
A few minutes later, Thomas emerged from the kitchen with his face and arms scrubbed pink. His hairline, wet from the scrubbing, twisted in a few unruly cowlicks.
“Ice cream’s ready.” Jimmy hopped down and carried his bowl over to their booth with pride.
Ten minutes later all three scraped the bottom of their dishes as they told jokes.
The bell above the door jingled again as a middle-aged couple entered. The strain on their faces disappeared as soon as they spotted Jimmy.
“You found me!” Jimmy jumped out of his chair and ran to them, hugging the man around the legs. “I knowed you would.”
“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Adams.” Janie followed and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Janie Mathews. I’m so sorry—”
“No, thank you.” The woman shook Janie’s hand. “We had to go to Grand Rapids and Luke was supposed to have him all day. How is Luke?”
“Stable.” Janie ruffled Jimmy’s hair. “And this guy was no trouble. It was fun.”
“I beat her in UNO.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Mrs. Adams hugged Jimmy before turning to Janie. “Do I owe you anything?”
“No, that was too much fun to be work.” Janie waved good night as they disappeared out the door.
Thomas stepped over to the cash register to close it out. Not that it would take long after today. “It was fun to see you laugh tonight.”
Janie grabbed the change and started counting it out. “That’s one awesome kid. Makes me want to adopt him.”
“What?” His fingers paused over the adding machine.
The expression on his face was so intense that she fumbled with the quarters. “I mean, he’s a great kid who needs parents, and . . . Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason.” He added the last few receipts and handed her the slip before he turned toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll close up. It’s not like we’ll be open tomorrow anyway.”
“I don’t mind helping.” Janie checked her number against the amount he’d given her. Was he giving her a way out, or did he want her to go? She gathered the ice cream dishes, carried them to the kitchen, and dropped them in the sink where Thomas stood, filling it with hot water.
Her hand brushed his in the water and she yanked it out, sending a cascade of bubbles through the air. “Sorry.”
He didn’t move. She chanced a peek at him. His eyes were locked on her.
She caught the corner of her lower lip between her teeth and allowed her focus to roam his face. A smudge of soot shadowed his jaw and disappeared behind his ear. “You still have black from the fire behind your ear.”
He reached up with bubbles on his hands. “Here?” Suds dripped a trail down his neck and over his collarbone and darkened the neckline of his well-fitting T-shirt.
She sucked in a lungful of air to cool the heat building within her. She reached for a clean rag on the shelf above them and rubbed at the spot. Her hands shook. “Got it.”
His gaze shifted to her lips. Time stopped as Janie’s lungs refused to work. As if the past year hadn’t happened, every cell in her body ached for him, called to him. His hand settled on her waist, and his eyes locked with hers again, something raw and vulnerable swirling in their depths.
His fingers toyed with the skin at her side as his focus dropped back to her mouth. He dipped his head to the side, as he’d always done just before he kissed her.
Her eyelids fluttered closed as she lifted her chin, inviting him home. Finally. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Thomas stiffened and jumped back, setting her off balance as he did. “Janie, I’m . . .”
Janie’s eyes popped open as she swallowed down nausea.
He shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned away. “I never . . .”
“Never what? Never should have broken up with me? Or never should have gotten my hopes up?” Janie bit her tongue to keep from saying more. But it wasn’t like after closing her eyes and leaning toward him she had anything left to hide.
His eyes landed on her and his intensity consumed her, begged her to understand. Understand what? That he was committed to someone else? Oh, she understood that, but she didn’t understand why.
He broke eye contact and took another step back. “I gotta go.” He bolted for the kitchen door.
A few seconds later the front door slammed, sending the familiar chime through the diner and a chill through her skin. At least she had little doubt where she stood—rejected by Thomas once again and left to clean up the mess.