Chapter Fourteen
PETTY. JUVENILE.
These were just a few words Rachel used to berate her actions on the field.
She should’ve cheered for both teams. She didn’t hate Noah.
Just—she couldn’t like him. That didn’t stop Rachel’s heart from pounding or the turmoil churning in her head.
Rachel wanted to hop in her truck, drive across Cattail Creek, and go find him.
Bring him to safety. Their lunchtime football game seemed like days ago, instead of a mere six hours.
Under a billowy gray sky ravaged by smoke, the sun had vanished.
The fire still raged out of control from the vicinity of the trailer park she’d visited only days earlier.
Was he trapped by encroaching flames on both sides?
Would the last words between them be laced with regrets and longing?
Closed off in her bedroom, she had hunted through her chest of drawers until she located an ancient radio receiver.
Quickly, she’d tuned into the emergency dispatch frequency.
Though separate from the encrypted tactical channel fire firefighters used on-scene, there were intermittent CAN reports that addressed ground conditions, actions taken, and additional needs, without disclosing sensitive health information of the victims. She heard mention of a propane tank explosion in Service.
The blast had ignited a trailer home. Narrow streets and limited access to hydrants compounded containment.
A flashover to neighboring units. And a rapid spread to the surrounding forest. Hours struggled by as the temperamental contraption cut out at crucial moments, picking up adjacent noise from other scanners nearby.
So far, nothing about the firefighters had reached her ears. Nothing about Noah.
Rachel raised the single window, removed the screen, and climbed out onto the tin roof. So, here she sat, her childhood escape, with Noah’s sachet of hair tucked against her heart and a direct view of Calvary land in front of her.
“Come back… to me,” she whispered.
One glimpse would be enough. She’d catch the dancing headlights of his truck coming across Cattail Creek and grab hold of that thread of peace.
She wouldn’t go to him. Breathing the same air, in and out, she would sense through the chasm in her heart the piece she’d left with him always, his vitality, his strength.
He wasn’t home.
One, two, three, four thuds, rapid and rhythmic on Rachel’s bedroom door, jarred her on her rooftop perch, where she sat, knees drawn up to her chest. She jumped, startled by the intrusion. Her foot slipped, her legs going into an impressive split for the thirty-something cheerleader tryouts.
Placing both hands on the tin roof, she stabilized her limbs, achy from sitting in one spot for hours, ignoring the hammering between her ears. “Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.”
The door opened as she lowered one foot, then the other, to the floor.
Bethany stepped into her room, the sweet scent of candied fruit following on a confectioner’s cloud.
Rachel watched as Bethany cast glances at the iGen-circa-2010 teenage relics she’d repeatedly reorganized while listening to the scanner: alphabetized CDs, restacked Abercrombie & Fitch sweaters, and last and by far the most regrettable, a shoebox of Netflix DVDs still in the customized red envelope mailers.
Sorry, Dad. The late fees must have cost more than her first year of college tuition.
“Ah, hi. I was thinking I should probably feed my family before I jump into my rebuttal to the mayor’s argument that thirty-five miles is a reasonable drive for basic medical services. Care to join us? Benji’s downstairs.”
The last part she added as a bonus offer, in case Rachel declined the food offer.
Rachel chuffed. “That’s if you can get down the mountain in a snowstorm or torrential rain, and traveling two lanes into Whynot from Service during tourist season can take up to two hours.”
“Exactly,” Bethany laughed. “You get it and you’ve been away for five years.”
With that Rachel quieted. “Noah will help our mayor see reason. Pete’s been in a bromance with him since we were six.
” With Noah in danger, Pete’s behavior at the game fell off any and all priority lists.
She needed her energy to force Noah by sheer will back to his cabin beside the plunge pool… to their spot.
“Hmm, that’s an interesting proposal, indeed.” Bethany laughed, quiet and classy, which Rachel noticed was her default setting. “If you don’t want dinner,” she paused, “I want you to know you can talk to me.”
Surprised, Rachel leaned back, the slight movement creating distance.
Was it obvious that not knowing whether he had all the right equipment, or if his fellow firefighters had his back, was pushing her to the brink?
Rachel needed to see his eyes, touch his skin, and feel his heartbeat.
Could he sense that she was… waiting, praying? “Why do you think I need to talk?”
The radio she’d brought through the window with her crackled.
“Well, I know what it’s like to worry about those you care about.”
“Worried?” she shrieked, wiping trembling hands down her thighs. “I’m nosy. That’s all.” Liar. Liar. Sweaty palms on fire.
“I saw your face when Noah and the guys were called away.”
Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “What they do is dangerous.”
“True enough. And our hearts ache… the uncertainty of life for a first responder… it’s hard on a family.”
“You’re speaking from experience?”
Bethany didn’t take offense. Instead, she pointed at the spindle-back chair slid beneath her faded white desk.
“May I sit?”
Rachel shrugged. “Sure.”
Bethany turned the chair to face the bed and all but collapsed her weight into the unpadded wooden chair.
Whoa. Perhaps planning a wedding while negotiating with the likes of Pete Judelson had zapped her energy.
Knowing Pete, the snake in the garden, he manipulated with one hand while bearing sugar cookies in the other.
“You okay?” Rachel asked, before questioning the personal nature of her inquiry.
“Fine,” Bethany sighed. “Too many late nights, I suppose.” She soon recovered and waited till Rachel positioned herself at the foot of her bed. “I’m not sure how much you know of my past.”
“My dad…” Rachel rolled her eyes heavenward. “He doesn’t share much with me. To him, his job is to protect me from everything, including information.”
“Yes, he’s an old-fashioned kind of man.
” Bethany smiled, looking around at the time capsule on display.
Her gaze zoomed in on the bookcase balanced on top of the desk.
She beamed at Rachel’s teenage obsessions, Lady Gaga’s first CD, Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” temporary tattoo, and the Twilight quartet paperback collection.
It became more apparent to Rachel that she should thank the new woman of the house for respecting what had once been her sanctuary.
“My mom didn’t talk much, either.” Why had she offered that tidbit of information? Whatever. She didn’t know how to act with another woman to talk to. She had her father, then Noah, now Benji, and maybe Noah… again.
“My Amarie’s room looked a lot like yours,” Bethany mused. “To see it, you two could be sisters.”
“Thanks for not changing it. I don’t remember if I said as much my first night in town.
” Rachel hadn’t considered how thoughtful Bethany’s decision to leave her room untouched was until now.
She hadn’t pried open the door to sort through Rachel’s memories of her mom.
Not that there were many. The few she had faded with each passing year.
She wished Noah’s did the same. As Bethany looked away, Rachel’s thoughts drifted back to the trepidation she had felt when she’d arrived.
Bethany had disarmed her at every turn, and this visit, the mother-daughter bonding, had done more of the same.
“Is that why you’re here? To tell me not to worry?
That Noah is a professional? He knows what he’s doing?
” Of course, Noah worked hard at being the best. But that wouldn’t protect him from oxygen-robbing smoke and spreading flames.
He was confident, borderline arrogant, and walked around as if he was surgically enhanced with Wolverine’s adamantium skeleton.
But he was a man. A too-gorgeous, cocky, courageous spark that she could never douse from her life. Look what that got her.
“No. Noah is one of the most dedicated, protective, and loyal men I know. He’s also not a man to rush into a cocksure decision when danger is involved.”
No lies told. Noah would count the cost of his actions. Her head understood, but her heart was a hasty one. Rachel’s fear, though unreasonable, felt rational. As much as she wanted to dispute with Bethany, the woman made it difficult to argue facts. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am. Now, my first husband, Amarie’s father, that man lacked conviction.
He overpromised. He rarely delivered. And he never looked at me like your father does…
the way Noah looks at you. I was an extension of his wants, his needs, his desires.
I spent years waiting for him to come home after a long day at the hospital saving lives and appreciating me for being there for him.
To refill what he’d poured out of himself in caring for others. ”
Rachel understood the longing, the waiting, the hopefulness before she realized she’d been the one he’d let go. “Did it ever happen?”
“Would we be having this conversation if he had?”
“Valid point.” Rachel wished people were as easy to redesign as brick and mortar.
It was why she designed spaces that impacted people’s lives.
Steel and stone endured. Buildings lived on, creating a legacy all their own.
People died. Her mother’s death had taught her that.
Love failed. Noah had been a private tutor in heartbreak.