Chapter 15
Jamie
"That's what he said?"
Megan refilled my mug and sat down next to Danny across from me.
"He said he wasn't going to put his name on it." I traced the rim of my mug. "But he wasn't going to stop us either."
Megan looked at Danny with an expression that said she didn't know what came next and was hoping he did.
Danny was quiet for a moment. He rubbed a hand over his jaw before he said, "I'll talk to some of the guys. Sullivan's been grumbling about the radio issues for months. Might be open to hearing more."
Danny was seven years older than Sam and had been in the department long enough to have standing. He was up for Lieutenant. If anyone could get firefighters to consider backing the proposal, it was him.
"Thank you, Honey." Megan pressed a kiss to his temple. Her hand lingered on his shoulder.
I watched them together. They made hard conversations look easy, and they always came out the other side still reaching for each other.
Something tugged in my chest.
Sam was on shift. But sitting at this table without him felt incomplete in a way I hadn't expected.
When did that happen?
I picked up Rosie from school after.
"Auntie Jamie!" She spotted me in the doorway and ran across the classroom, her backpack bouncing against her shoulders. I crouched down and caught her in my arms.
"Hey, sweetheart. Ready to go home?"
She nodded and slipped her hand into mine.
"It's called oh-rig-ah-mee." She chattered the whole drive home about her friend Gigi and how Gigi had taught her how to fold paper into shapes. "You fold the paper and it turns into animals."
"Origami," I said.
"That's what I said." She held up a crumpled paper shape that might have been a bird. "See? Gigi says I'm really good at it."
"It's beautiful, sweetheart."
I smiled. Despite everything she'd lost, Rosie was still a happy kid. That was Jack. He'd given her a stable home, surrounded her with people who loved her, and built a world where she felt safe enough to make friends and get excited about crumpled paper birds.
I hoped I could keep it that way.
Sam's voice drifted through my head. Mark isn't New York. Everything you built for yourself is still there. You can still go back if you want.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I could go back. But what about Rosie? Taking her to New York would mean uprooting her from the only home she'd ever known. A strange city, new people, a school where she didn't know anyone. Would she make friends as easily as she had here? Would she even like it there?
And if we left Havensworth, I would miss—
I shook off the thought and turned onto our street.
The boys were there again. Three of them, maybe sixteen or seventeen, leaning against the side of the house with cigarettes dangling from their fingers. The butts were scattered in the grass.
I parked in the driveway and helped Rosie out of her seat. She ran ahead toward the front door while I walked over to them.
"Hey." I kept my voice polite. "Can you guys make sure the cigarette butts go in the trash? There's a bin right there."
One of them shrugged. "Yeah, sure."
The others nodded without meeting my eyes.
I doubted they'd follow through, but I was too tired to push it. I turned and walked back toward the front steps where Rosie was waiting.
Then I stopped.
There was something on the welcome mat. A folded piece of paper. No envelope. No name.
I picked it up and opened it.
Go Back To New York
I stared at it.
I'd been a journalist long enough to know this feeling.
Anonymous notes, angry emails, the occasional phone call from someone who didn't like what I was digging into.
It came with the territory. When someone felt threatened enough to try to scare you off, it meant you were poking at something they wanted to keep buried.
But who? The only work I'd been doing in Havensworth was the reform proposal. Had I upset the firefighters that much? Were they really so resistant to change that they'd leave a note like this on my doorstep?
I couldn't believe that.
"What's that?" Rosie tugged at my hand.
I folded it and slipped it into my purse. "Nothing, sweetheart. Just junk mail."
I unlocked the door and ushered her inside. I'd show Sam tomorrow.
Rosie had started asking to sleep in my room after Loretta left.
Our evening ritual had become my favorite part of the day.
After bath time, Rosie would sit on the edge of the bed while I brushed her hair.
She'd inherited Sarah's golden curls, the kind that spiraled at the ends no matter how carefully you combed them.
Sometimes, with her hair falling around her shoulders and her big eyes watching me in the mirror, she looked like a porcelain doll.
I set the brush down and wrapped my arms around her from behind, giving her a squeeze. She laughed and squirmed against me.
"That tickles!"
"Does it?" I squeezed tighter and she shrieked, dissolving into giggles.
She climbed under the covers and I tucked them around her. Her envelope of stories sat on my nightstand now, right where she could see it.
I was reaching for the lamp when my phone buzzed.
Sam
Quiet shift tonight. How did it go with Megan and Danny?
Jamie
Danny's going to talk to some of the guys.
Sam
That's good. Danny's got pull.
Jamie
Missed you there today.
I stared at the screen. I hadn't meant to type that. It just came out. My fingers moved before my brain caught up. For a second I wished I could take it back, but this was 2007 and there was no unsend button for what had already been sent.
I watched the phone, waited, and tried not to panic.
His reply came a few seconds later.
Sam
Missed being there.
Jamie
We're going to bed now. Goodnight.
Sam
Goodnight, Jamie.
I set the phone on the nightstand next to Rosie's envelope and turned off the lamp. She was already half-asleep, her breathing slow and steady. I slid under the covers beside her, and she shifted closer, tucking herself against my side.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the way he'd said missed being there.
Like he'd been thinking it too.
I woke to Rosie crying.
For a second I didn't understand. Then I smelled it. Smoke. Thick and acrid, burning the back of my throat.
"Auntie Jamie." Rosie's voice was high and frightened. "Auntie Jamie, I can't breathe."
I was on my feet before I was fully awake. I scooped her up and ran for the door, but smoke was already pouring through the gap at the bottom. I touched the handle and pulled my hand back. Hot.
The window. We could go out the window.
I rushed across the room and tried to shove it open. It wouldn't budge. I tried again, throwing my whole weight against it. Nothing. The old wood had swollen in its frame and sealed itself shut.
We were three floors up. Nowhere to go.
My phone. I grabbed it from the nightstand and dialed 911.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"Fire." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "There's a fire in my house. We're trapped on the third floor. I have a child with me."
I gave her the address. She told me help was on the way. She told me to stay low, to keep Rosie's face covered, to stay on the line.
"My stories." Rosie was sobbing now, clutching at my shirt. "My stories for Mommy and Daddy."
The envelope. I grabbed it from the nightstand and pressed it into her arms. Then I backed us into the corner, as far from the door as I could get. I held her to my chest and covered her mouth and nose with my hand.
"Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart. Don't open them until I tell you."
She nodded against my chest, trembling.
The smoke was getting thicker. I could feel it filling my lungs, stealing the air. My eyes burned. I couldn't see the door anymore.
This was how it ended. In the room my father and Jack built for me when I was seven. With Jack's daughter in my arms and no way out.
I held her tighter and waited.
The door exploded off its hinges.
A firefighter came through the smoke, moving fast. He crossed the room in three steps and lifted us both off the floor like we weighed nothing.
Rosie clung to me and I clung to her and he carried us down through the burning house, through the smoke and the heat, until suddenly there was cold air on my face and grass under my feet.
He set us down gently. Rosie pulled back from my chest and looked up at him.
"I knew you'd come!"
He reached up and pulled off his mask.
Sam.
His face was streaked with sweat and soot. His eyes found mine and held them, and for a second everything else disappeared. The fire. The smoke. The chaos around us. There was only him, looking at me.
He stepped toward me. His voice was rough.
"I swore on my life. I will always protect you."