Chapter 6 #3
Lydia nearly jumped out of her skin. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stood, every muscle tense. The doorbell rang again, and she forced herself to move toward the front door with her cell phone in hand. She dialed 911, and her thumb hovered over the call button, her hands shaking.
It couldn’t be Tom. It was too soon. The police had only just started investigating. He couldn’t have found her here, at Ethan’s house, this fast.
Could he?
Then she remembered that her car was parked outside, the one Ethan had just collected the day before.
She crept to the door, pressed her eye to the peephole, half-expecting to see Tom’s familiar silhouette. The barrel chest, the thinning red hair, the mean set of his shoulders that he had adopted since he started to drink too much.
Instead, out on the lit patio, she saw a stranger.
A large man, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and gray-green eyes. He stood on the porch looking uncomfortable, his hands shoved in his pockets, like he wasn’t sure he should be there.
Lydia opened the door slowly, leaving the chain engaged. “Can I help you?”
“Ms. Harper?” The man’s voice was rough, like he’d spent too long breathing smoke. “I’m Caleb Byrne. I was … I was at your house. The night of the fire.”
Understanding crashed over her like a wave. This was him. The stranger who’d run into the burning building twice. Who’d saved her children. Who’d saved her.
Lydia fumbled with the chain, yanked the door open. “You … oh my God, you’re—” She stopped to collect her thoughts. “You saved us. You saved my babies.”
“I just—” Caleb looked even more uncomfortable now. “I wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay. The kids, too.”
“We’re alive because of you.” Lydia could feel tears streaming down her face and didn’t care. “You risked your life for us. For people you didn’t even know. How can I ever?—”
“Please don’t,” Caleb said, holding up a hand. “I’m not … I didn’t do anything special. Anyone would have?—”
“No.” Lydia shook her head fiercely. “Not anyone. Most people would have driven past. But you stopped. You went in. Twice.” She reached out and grabbed his hand, holding it between both of hers. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me my children back.”
Caleb looked down at their joined hands, clearly at a loss for words. “Are they … are they okay? The kids?”
“They’re fine. Scared, but fine.” Lydia wiped at her eyes with her free hand. “Do you want to meet them? They don’t really remember much from that night, but I’ve been telling them about the brave man who saved us.”
She could see him hesitate, could see the discomfort warring with something else in his eyes. Curiosity, maybe. Or loneliness.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” he said finally.
“It’s no trouble at all.” Lydia stepped back, opening the door wider. “Please, come in.”
Caleb followed her into the house, and Lydia led him to the kitchen, where Eli was still bent over his book, and Rosie was coloring at the other end of the table.
“Kids, I want you to meet someone very important.” Lydia put her hand on Caleb’s arm, gently guiding him forward. “This is Mr. Byrne. He’s the one who saved us from the fire.”
Eli’s head snapped up, his eyes going wide. “You carried us out! Both of us!”
“Yeah.” Caleb’s voice was gruff, but his expression softened when he looked at the kids. “You and your sister. You were both very brave.”
“I wasn’t brave,” Eli said quietly. “I was scared.”
“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared.” Caleb knelt down so he was at eye level with the boy. “It means you keep going even when you are scared. And you kept going. You took care of your sister, tried to get her out of the smoke. That’s brave.”
Rosie had abandoned her coloring and was staring at Caleb with huge eyes. “Mommy says you’re a hero.”
Caleb’s face flushed. “I’m not. I just did what needed doing.”
“That’s what heroes do,” Rosie said matter-of-factly. Then, with the fearlessness of a six-year-old, she walked over and hugged him, her little arms so tiny against his bulk. “Thank you for saving us.”
Lydia watched Caleb’s face transform. The discomfort melted into something softer, more vulnerable. He reached down and patted Rosie’s head awkwardly, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with a child’s affection.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he said quietly.
They talked for a while. Caleb answered Eli’s questions about firefighting, listening to Rosie’s rambling story about her lost bunny, sitting at the kitchen table, like he belonged there.
And despite his initial discomfort, Lydia could see he was good with kids.
Patient, gentle, and willing to get down on their level.
He stayed for almost an hour before standing to leave. “I should get going. Let you folks have your evening.”
“Thank you for coming,” Lydia said, walking him to the door. “It means everything to me that you checked on us.”
“Take care of yourself,” Caleb said. “And those kids. They’re special.”
“I will.” Lydia hesitated. “Are you staying in town? I’d like to repay you somehow. Dinner, or?—”
“I’m around,” Caleb said vaguely. “And you don’t owe me anything. Just take care of them.”
He left before she could say anything else, and Lydia stood in the doorway watching him walk to his truck. A beautiful red and chrome vintage Ford that looked like it had been lovingly restored.
When she closed the door, she found Eli standing behind her.
“He seemed sad,” her son said.
“I think he is,” Lydia agreed. “But I think maybe he’s a little less sad now that he spent time with you and Rosie.”
She hoped that was true. Hoped that in saving them, Caleb Byrne had had his spirits lifted.
But mostly, she was just grateful. Grateful that they were alive, that her children were safe, that there were still good people in the world who ran toward danger instead of away from it.