Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Celeste lost all sense of time from the moment the firefighters arrived. They pried the garden hose out of her hands and drew her away from the scene toward the ambulance waiting in the street.
She watched as closely as possible as they put out the fire.
Nerves and fear coursed through her. The paramedics treated her, insisting on transporting her to the clinic for a full exam of her painful wrist. Based on the pain, she assumed it was broken, but she refused to leave until she knew the house had been saved.
She’d never realized how noisy fire could be, but with the flames out, the change was shocking. A couple of firefighters approached the ambulance, asking her questions about the scene. She gave her best answers until the paramedics closed the ambulance doors.
Alone with her thoughts, her mind swirled.
The outdoor kitchen and pergola were destroyed. The back of the house was scarred with smoke, the cedar plank siding blistered from the heat.
They had insurance—full coverage. But more than the time and money to rebuild, her sense of security was trashed. Her dad’s grill was gone. When she closed her eyes, all she could see were the charred remains of one of his prized possessions.
Why did that one detail matter so much? It wasn’t as if her father made a point of staying connected to this place or his daughters.
At the clinic, she felt like a passenger in her own life as the paramedics gave Dr. Sanders the details.
The older of the two doctors on staff, his bedside manner was gruff yet comforting.
Despite her best efforts, she struggled to stay alert.
The pain and pressure seemed to increase with every beat of her heart.
The doctor spoke to her, then the nurse, and as he wrapped up his exam, the pain finally started to die down.
Like the fire, she thought. Not nearly so loud.
After x-rays were taken, Dr. Sanders returned to her room. “Good news, Celeste. The break was clean and you shouldn’t need surgery.”
She nodded along.
“We’ll splint it today and put a cast on once the swelling subsides.” He pinned her with a stern gaze. “You’ll give yourself time to heal.”
Floating on the pain meds, her mind was tangled between reliving the fire and comprehending the present. “Uh-huh.”
“Hey?” Her sister, Veronica, walked in. “Oh. Ow. Can you hear me?” She came around to hold Celeste’s uninjured left hand. “Celeste?”
“Um. Hi.” She tried—and failed—to say more.
Of course, Veronica would be here. The older of her two younger sisters had gladly settled into Brookwell life. She’d bought a house nearby so the three of them could better support their B&B venture.
Though Veronica tried to get her talking, Celeste wasn’t up for conversation. Dazed and in shock, she couldn’t stay focused on any one thing. She stopped fighting it. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift.
“Don’t worry. It’s probably the pain meds,” another voice murmured. “Let’s give her some time.”
That voice sounded equally concerned and far more paternal. Kind of like her dad, but not. No way her dad was here, she thought on a wave of heartache. In a crisis, her dad was stoic, his voice calm and flat. His voice didn’t go warm and tender until long after a situation was resolved.
Why did that still make her sad?
Sometime later, she woke up to the bustling energy of a nurse asking her more questions. The thick fog in her head had cleared and she gave her name and birthdate with ease. Along with the current year.
“I’m Diedre,” the nurse said. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Let’s try some water,” Diedre urged. “How’s the throat? You were outside, but you inhaled plenty of smoke.”
She swallowed deliberately, testing the pain. “It’s okay.”
“Some good news.” The nurse smiled and held out a plastic device. “Lung exercise.” She explained the process and Celeste gave her best effort. “And how does that feel?”
“Burns a little.”
Diedre made a note, then looked up and smiled again. “You’ll get to take that home and use it frequently for a couple of days.”
“I can still smell the smoke.” She wrinkled her nose. “Taste it too.”
“Mm-hm. Taste is coming from your lungs. Better out than in. What you’re smelling is smoke in your hair,” Diedre said. “It’ll fade. You’ll feel better once you can get a shower at home.”
Home . For so long she’d thought of Hargrave Hideaway as her home, no matter that she co-owned it with her sisters and hosted strangers in the upstairs suites. Was she even allowed to go inside?
“Ready for some visitors?” The nurse asked, drawing her away from her concerns.
“Sure.” She imagined both her sisters were worried.
“Veronica has been here and waiting since we sent word. A few other friends have come and gone.”
Come and gone? “How long have I been out?”
She patted Celeste’s shoulder. “Only a couple of hours.”
“When can I go home?”
“Dr. Sanders will want to take one more look at you before he sends you on your way.” She adjusted Celeste’s bed and plumped the pillows behind her head and shoulders. “I’ll let him know you’re awake.”
“Thanks.”
Diedre left and a moment later, Veronica walked in, trailed by Reed. Celeste felt immediately self-conscious with him in the room. Silly, considering how he’d stepped into the gap her father had left behind. Veronica had likely called him to sit with her while she waited.
“Thanks for coming.” Celeste’s gaze dropped to the splint bracing her right wrist.
“You sound more alert,” Veronica observed. “How are you feeling?”
“Meh. Not a fan of smelling like I’ve been hanging out in hell.” Celeste’s attempt at humor fell flat. Reed and Veronica stared at her with blatant concern. “Gee, tough room.”
Veronica exhaled, puffing her bangs away from her face. “Tough day? Definitely. Getting a call that you were being transported here after trying to fight a fire by yourself wasn’t a high point.”
She couldn’t imagine being on the other end of that call. “You would’ve done the same thing.” Celeste lifted her splinted arm, wincing at the jolt of pain. “Probably with far more grace. Do they know what happened yet?” she asked. “How did it start?”
Veronica gaped, clearly exasperated, and Celeste turned to Reed. “What did they say? Did anyone tell you what happened?”
Reed glanced at Veronica and rocked back on his heels. “Chief Miller was grudgingly impressed with your attempt to keep the fire contained. That’s about all I’ve heard. He’ll have more questions when you’re feeling better.”
Celeste struggled against the lingering fog in her head. She wanted answers, a viable explanation. There was no reason she could think of for the outdoor kitchen to burst into flame. “I guess it’s a good thing we live on a small island.”
“You got that right,” Veronica agreed. “The response times are almost instant.”
It hadn’t felt instant, but why argue? “Aww, sis. Would you miss me if something happened?”
Veronica swore under her breath, glaring at Celeste, and suddenly it was like looking in a mirror.
All three of the Hargrave sisters were blonde and blue-eyed, but everyone seemed to agree that Celeste was the serious one—always quicker with a frown than a smile.
Natalie, the youngest, was way too trusting and carefree.
And Veronica, just like her birth order, was caught in the middle—more easy-going than Celeste and more circumspect than Natalie.
“Look at you,” Dr. Sanders said, striding in to join them. “Diedre was right, as usual.” He narrowed his gaze. “You’re alert,” he observed. “Not in too much pain?”
“Manageable,” she allowed.
“Good.” He consulted his tablet, using the stylus to scroll and tap. “You feel ready to get out of here?”
“Absolutely.”
Dr. Sanders shared a look with Reed. “No one ever wants to hang out with me,” he joked. “But first things first,” he said, facing Celeste again. “Stay ahead of the pain for a day or two. That’ll keep everyone happier. You are not to be alone when you’re on the painkillers.”
“She’ll stay at my place,” Veronica piped up. “Just tell me the schedule.”
“Good to hear.” Dr. Sanders continued to check her over.
“You decided that in a hurry,” Celeste complained to her sister.
“Where would you rather be?” Veronica folded her arms. “You can’t be alone at the Hideaway.”
“I second that,” Dr. Sanders murmured.
But Celeste was having flashbacks to their mother’s last few months. Caregiving was no fun and becoming a burden—even in the short term—was the last thing she wanted for any of them. “How long until I can be on my own?” she queried.
“A few days, most likely.” Dr. Sanders shrugged. His sharp gaze moved between the sisters. “How about this, you can’t drive right now, and you probably don’t feel like walking all over the place.”
“I was thinking about a bike ride earlier today,” Celeste said absently.
“Well, that’s a good option. After we get a cast on your arm and you can manage the pain with over-the-counter options.” He pressed each of her fingertips on the splinted hand, studying her for reactions. “We’ve got an appointment scheduled for you in three days.”
“She’ll be here,” Veronica promised.
It was only mildly humiliating being treated like a child. She blamed her acceptance on the meds. Thankfully Veronica found her humor and the two of them laughed while getting her dressed in clean clothes for the ride home.
“I cannot wait to wash my hair,” Celeste said as another lock brushed across her cheek, filling her nose with more of that acrid smoky smell.
“First on the list,” Veronica teased. “You don’t mind if we ride with the windows down do you?”
“You’re hysterical,” she grumbled.
“I get it from you, sis.”