Love Inspired May 2015 #2 (50 page)

“He stopped, didn't he?” Chris said with a victorious smile. She smiled wanly in return.

“We'll talk more about this later.” She stood up and pulled a hand through her dark waves. “Chris, I left a snack for you in the car.”

“What is it?” he asked skeptically.

“A bologna sandwich,” she said. “Your favorite. Why don't you get your snack at the car while I talk to Mr. Bailey a little bit, okay?”

Chris looked ready to argue but shrugged his thin shoulders instead. “Okay.”

He headed over to the car and Rachel touched the unlock button on her key fob with a responding beep from the car. She watched him silently, her heart full of anxiety, sadness and an overflowing abundance of love for her troubled boy.

“You okay?” Matt asked.

“I'm fine,” she replied with a sigh. “I'm worried about Chris. He's—” She swallowed. “I was hoping a change in scenery might make a difference for him.”

“I have a feeling he was upset about more than the comment,” Matt said slowly.

“You mean, last night,” she concluded.

“Yeah. He talked to me about it, man-to-man.”

“Oh?” Rachel eyed him in interest. “What did he say?”

“He basically told me to back off,” Matt replied with a low laugh. “And I'm not to consider myself your boyfriend.”

Heat rose in Rachel's cheeks and she shook her head. “He has enough to deal with right now.”

“I know.” Matt put his hands into his pockets and looked out into the parking lot beyond Rachel, his blue eyes clouded in thought. “He's a sensitive kid, and I know you don't want to hear this, but I was kind of relieved to see him belt the kid.”

“Why would you say that?” she asked. “This was the problem in the other school. He kept fighting. He fought everyone, and no one could figure out why. I thought someone might have been picking on him, but the teacher insisted that Chris was the one to start it. I've been working so hard with him, trying to show him that hitting isn't the answer.”

“Look, there are two kinds of boys.” Matt dropped his gaze down to meet hers. “There are the boys who get picked on and curl up into a ball, and there are the boys who get picked on and stand up for themselves. I'm not saying that punching another kid is the answer, but at least he's standing up for himself. He's not beaten.”

Rachel nodded. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Nope.” He shot her a wry grin. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Rachel smiled, rolling his words over in her mind. “So you don't think I have as much to worry about as I think I do?”

“I think he'll be okay.”

She sighed. “The thing is, in the other school,
he
was considered the bully.”

“But why was he lashing out?” Matt asked.

“That's the million-dollar question, and he wouldn't say. The teacher had already decided he was trouble, and I think that had something to do with his reluctance to talk. By the end of the school year, I was just glad to have him out of that school and safe at home with me for the summer.” She glanced up as the library doors opened and a portly man carrying a suit jacket over one arm came toward them at a leisurely pace. Matt glanced in the direction she was looking, and she noticed the tension rise in his posture.

“Hi there,” the man called.

“Abe Bernard, this is Rachel Carter,” Matt said, looking between them. “Rachel is Chris's mom.”

“Ah, the fight.” Mr. Bernard nodded sagely. “Is it all taken care of now?”

“Looks like,” Matt replied. He turned toward Rachel. “I should probably get going.”

Rachel nodded quickly. This was obviously the man from the hiring committee, and a feeling of regret rose inside her. If Matt didn't get this job, she didn't want it to be because of them.

“Abe, how about I meet you in the truck? I'll just be a minute.”

Abe nodded, gave a polite salute to Rachel, then headed away from them.

“The interviewer?” Rachel whispered.

“That's the one.”

“And you came out here and talked things through with Chris and me instead of showing what you could do in there.” She jutted her chin in the direction of the library.

“Yeah, well...” Matt shrugged.

“Matt, this might not be good for your chances. You shouldn't be putting us before your interview. You want this.”

Matt was silent for a moment; then he shrugged. “I saw the look on Chris's face, Rachel. He needed a hand.”

Tears misted her eyes and she blinked them back. “Thank you, Matt. You're a really good guy.”

A smile crinkled around his eyes and he brushed a hand over her shoulder. “I'd better get going.”

She nodded, and Matt caught her eye one last time. “Don't be too hard on the kid.”

“I won't.”

As Matt sauntered off toward his truck, Rachel turned in the other direction, heading back toward her car, where her son waited, his cheek full of sandwich.

“Let's go home, sweetheart,” she said quietly.

“Are you mad at me?” Chris asked cautiously.

She glanced at her son, the last crust of his white-bread sandwich in one hand and his big blue eyes fixed on her face.

“Not mad,” she said, reaching into the backseat to give his knee a squeeze. She started the car, then craned around to see out the back window as she reversed out of the parking space.

Lord, help me
, she prayed in her heart.
It's starting again, and I still don't know how to fix it.

* * *

That evening, Matt stood in his kitchen, a cup of hot coffee between his palms. It had been a long day. Mr. Bernard had chatted with him briefly after the library presentation, then driven off in the direction of South Maitland in a swirl of dust, and Matt had a sinking feeling that his hopes of getting out of this town had left with him.

He took a slow sip of coffee, inhaling the comforting aroma. Was it so bad to miss out on this chance?

An image of Rachel rose in his mind—her hair damp from the rain, springing up into curls around her face. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, and he thought—not for the first time—of the feeling of her warms lips against his.

Lord, could I really just walk away from her...head out of town and never look back? Or would I regret that for the rest of my life?

He was thirty-five and still single, so he knew exactly how rare and beautiful it was to find a woman who made him feel the way Rachel did. Maybe there was a silver lining to being passed over for the South Maitland fire chief position. He wasn't on his way out of Dodge, but at least he'd be close by Rachel and Chris for a little while longer. Maybe he could help Chris get a handle on the bullying situation before he left, too.

Matt found himself feeling almost cheerful about the whole thing, and he picked up the most recent pile of mail that he'd left on his counter and sorted through the envelopes. There were a few bills, a couple of envelopes addressed to Occupant, which went directly into the trash, and the local newspaper. He shook the paper open and glanced over the front page.

Three Years after Fatal Fire, Broxton Park Elementary to Reopen.

The headline was followed by a full-color photo of the school in flames next to a new snapshot of the school now, ready to open once more to the surrounding community. He closed his eyes, the old tension closing in around his heart.

“Just stop!” he barked aloud, slapping the paper against the counter, then tossing it into the trash. How long was this town going to rehash this tragedy? Was it horrible? Absolutely. He saw it almost every night in his dreams. Was it senseless? Of course. But the journalists writing these articles didn't seem to care what their constant rehashing did to anyone else. They were simply scraping around, looking for a topic that made the town of Haggerston look even remotely newsworthy. Haggerston was a sleepy little place with nothing to report but the canned preserves contest at the local fair and the Quilting for Equality program that a few church ladies had started up to raise money to give to charity. Haggerston wasn't even remotely newsworthy until the fire, and now the reporters stuck in this town wouldn't let up.

They hadn't tried to save her. They hadn't been the last one to look into her terrified face before she went limp. What right did they have to haul up her memory every other month in order to make a headline in a small-town rag?

Except no one else was complaining, so who was he to get indignant with a town that wanted to hold on to little Natalie as long as possible?

He put down his coffee with a thud and sucked in a deep breath.

I don't think I got this job, Father, and I don't know how I'm going to stay here.

God knew what he needed. He knew what this was doing to him. Why was it so hard to leave his future in God's hands?

His cell phone rang, and Matt glanced down at the number, ready to press Ignore, but he froze when he saw the number. It was South Maitland. He let out a pent-up breath and picked up the call.

“This is Matt Bailey.”

“Hi, Matt.” Mr. Bernard's voice was cheerful. “I'm probably calling during your dinner hour, aren't I?”

“No, no, it's fine,” Matt said with a wry smile. “I haven't even started cooking yet, so you're safe.”

“Oh, that's a relief. My wife told me I should hold off and let you eat in peace, but I said, ‘Margie, his food will go down like sawdust anyway, so I might as well call.'”

Matt chuckled good-naturedly. “She meant well.”

“She always does. She always does.” There was a pause. “Well, I wanted to let you know that I met with the board when I got back, and we took the vote.”

“Oh?” Matt tried to keep the hope from seeping out of his tone, but he wasn't successful. He closed his eyes and winced. Being all hopeful would only make it worse when he had to pretend it didn't matter too much.

“As you know, you ranked very highly in our estimation,” Mr. Bernard went on with agonizing slowness. “You have the education, the references, the experience and pretty much everything we were looking for on our list for the perfect fire chief. When I came to observe you in action, I expected to see a little more action, however...”

Here it comes.

“I was surprised when you left the rest of the presentation with the captain under you. On my drive back to South Maitland, I had some time to think, though, and I realized that two young boys matter just as much as a whole group, and a fire chief's position is about fire safety, but it's also a position of respect and leadership in a community. You took the time to help two little boys sort out their conflict. You cared, and you put them in front of your own professional aspirations. I respect that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I told the board about what happened, and they agreed that it showed character and compassion, and we voted unanimously to offer you the position of fire chief of South Maitland.”

“Wait—” Matt swallowed hard. “You're offering me the job?”

“Yes, we are. Congratulations, Mr. Bailey. Now it's your turn. What do you say?”

Matt looked down into the trash can at the newspaper, the image of the flaming school uppermost on the pile of garbage, where orange flames and pouring black smoke fought for dominance over the page. He scrubbed a hand through his short hair.

“Thank you, Mr. Bernard. I'm honored, and I'm happy to accept.”

“Excellent!” Mr. Bernard crowed. “I'll let the board know that we have a new fire chief for the town of South Maitland. I'll come down to Haggerston with the papers to sign tomorrow, if that works for you.”

“Perfect,” Matt said with a nod. The sooner the better. “I'll see you then.”

Hanging up the phone, he sucked in a breath, searching his gut for a reaction to this. He felt nothing—nothing at all.

Lord,
he prayed in his heart,
You've given me the job, the way out
.
Thank You.

Yet somehow he knew he couldn't just walk away from Rachel, either. God might have given him the professional step up, but what about Rachel? What about the baby he'd pulled from a soggy cardboard box seven years ago and bonded with against his better judgment? Where did they fit into his future?

He picked up the phone and dialed the number of his direct boss, the Haggerston fire chief. Even if he left town, he had an idea of how he could provide a little more stability for the two of them.

Chapter Ten

A
s Rachel and Chris approached the fire station the next afternoon, she stopped Chris and put a hand under his chin.

“What?” he asked.

“You have jam on your face.” She licked a finger and wiped the smudge of raspberry jam from his cheek while he squirmed away. She chuckled and looked down into his face. “You're growing up. You're not my tiny boy anymore, are you?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“But I'm still your mom.” She ruffled his honey-blond hair. “That's not going to change.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Will we get french fries?”

“What does that have to do with a visit to the fire station?” she asked with a laugh. “No. We'll go home for soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches later.”

Chris pondered that for a moment, then turned toward the front door of the station. “Okay.”

She was relieved that everything seemed so ordinary today, from the leafy trees spreading overhead to the rambling form of her son, heading toward the now familiar door of the fire station. When Matt had called the night before and asked her to meet him at the station to talk about a possible contract position with the fire department, she was intrigued. She'd been making her peace with her husband's death over the past few weeks, and working with a fire station no longer rankled as it would have before. Besides, as a single mother, she had only her own income to rely on, so beefing up her take-home pay could only benefit her and Chris.

“Hi,” Matt called as they came into the front door. “Come on through.”

He beckoned them in, and Rachel shot the receptionist a smile on her way by. Chris dawdled behind, and she turned, putting a hand on her hip and giving him The Look. His pace quickened, but as soon as she looked away, he slowed again.

Rachel sighed and pulled her hand through her hair. Dragging a seven-year-old anywhere was an event. She ended up feeling exhausted and beaten.

“Tough day?” Matt asked, keeping his voice low.

She nodded. “Yeah. It's all part of being a parent, I'm afraid.”

“Hey, Chris,” Matt called. “Let me take you and your mom up to the gym where the guys work out to get their big muscles. What do you say?” He lowered his voice again. “Then maybe you and I could talk.”

Chris perked up that thought and picked up his pace once more, and Rachel glanced up at the big man next to her, wondering what he had in mind. He had refused to elaborate on the phone.

“How much can you lift?” Chris asked, looking up at Matt with new respect in his eyes.

“More than you.” Matt chuckled.

“Could you lift my mom?”

Matt's gaze softened as he glanced down at her, and Rachel felt the heat rise in her cheeks in spite of herself.

“You bet,” he said with a shrug. “Right up over my shoulder. Want a demonstration?”

“Yes!” Chris laughed.

“No!” Rachel chuckled at the same time, taking a precautionary step back. “No demonstrations on me, thank you very much.”

Matt held her eye teasingly, then laughed, the sound echoing through the halls. He led the way up the stairs toward the crew room, Chris at his heels.

“This is the training room,” Matt said.

Some easy chairs were lined up around a large-screen TV, one of which was occupied by a big firefighter who was watching a training video that showed a car in flames. A table was in the center of the room, piles of training material lining one side of it. A CPR dummy stared cheerfully from a corner where it was propped up. Two firefighters sat at the other side of the table, open binders in front of them, and when Matt entered the room, every man present snapped his attention toward their boss.

“Just passing through,” Matt said with a nod. He led the way farther down the hallway and pushed open another door. “This is the gym.”

Chris stepped inside and watched in mute admiration as another firefighter lifted weights. He was a big man, with a thick neck that melted into even more massive shoulders. He looked as if he could bench-press a house if absolutely necessary.

“Can I watch?” Chris asked.

“Sure.” The big man shrugged. “I don't mind.”

Chris stood back as the firefighter lifted the heavy barbell, grunting with effort with each flex. Rachel shook her head with a smile. This was the sort of thing a mom couldn't provide. No kid ever bragged that his mom could lift a piano, and she'd always been okay with that, but the older Chris grew, the more she realized that he was a boy, not a baby, and he was going to have to learn to navigate the world of men.

“Nathan's a good guy,” Matt reassured her, and they stepped outside the room.

“It's guy stuff,” she explained. “He loves muscles and trucks and...” She cast around for another word. “His latest interest is wrestling.”

Matt chuckled. “Not your thing?”

“I'm his mom.” She shrugged. “Try as I might, I can't be his father, too. And trust me, I try.”

“So, how are you holding up?” Matt opened the door next to the workout room, and they stepped inside. It was a quiet space with shelves of books and a writing desk. A small window let in a shaft of sunlight that pooled at her feet.

“I'm doing all right,” she said. “Haggerston is starting to feel like home already.”

“I'm glad.” Matt leaned back against the desk and regarded her thoughtfully. “I suppose I should just come out with it.”

She stayed silent and looked up at him cautiously.

“I've been offered the job in South Maitland.”

His words brought a mist of tears to her eyes, and she blinked them back hurriedly. This had been the plan all along, and she didn't blame Matt for wanting out of town. She understood his motivation perfectly, but somehow the disappointment stung more than she'd expected.

“I can't say that I'm surprised,” she admitted quietly. “They'll be fortunate to have you.”

“Yeah...” He cleared his throat. “I talked to the fire chief here in Haggerston last night, and he said that they could use a seasoned teacher on a part-time basis to help out firefighters with presentations. It could make the team that much stronger. I suggested you.”

“That's really kind...” She swallowed hard. “I'll have to think about it. Is it being offered to me?”

“If you're interested.”

Rachel moved to a table and leaned against it, her mind sorting through the information. It was a good offer—one that would make a financial difference in her home—but her heart was still stuck on the first thing he'd said: he got the job. Matt followed her lead and leaned next to her, his muscular arms gently brushing her sleeve. She looked up at him, tears misting her gaze again.

“I'm sorry, Matt,” she said, swallowing hard. “I really am happy for you. I'm just...” She searched for a word.

“Me, too.” His words were gruff and he nodded quickly.

His gaze was still fixed broodingly on the opposite wall.

“This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to get attached.” She sucked in a breath.

“Yeah, I thought I had that under control, too.” He reached over and took her hand in his warm palm. “I guess I'm not as tough as I thought.”

How had this happened? How had she managed to fall in love with another firefighter? She knew better than this! She wasn't a naive twenty-year-old this time. She was a grown woman with a son of her own. Yet Matt wasn't like Ed at all. It seemed to be only the job that they had in common.

“You're very different from my late husband,” she admitted.

“Yeah?” He squeezed her hand. “How so?”

“You're...” She blushed. “You're not the type of man I'm used to.” How could she tell him that his conventional good looks were a little intimidating for her? She was used to a man who had unconventional looks, an inner strength that was based in his character. She was used to wearing flats and blending in with him. But when she was with Matt, she didn't feel as though she blended in with anything... Not in Matt's eyes, and not in anyone else's, either.

“It's not that I'm a wallflower, exactly,” she confessed. “But being out with you is different than I've been used to. People notice you.”

“It's not me they're looking at,” he said with a slow smile. “They're all pretty used to seeing me around.”

Rachel shook her head. “See? Like that. I'm sure you're used to making women swoon with stuff like that. I'm used to being with a man who has no idea how to make a woman swoon and he does it by accident.”

“You think I'm some sort of ladies' man?” He sounded mildly offended. “Just ask anyone who knows me how much I date.”

“No.” She sighed. “I'm intimidated.”

“By me?” His voice softened.

“Not you exactly,” she tried to clarify. “By us. By how I feel when I'm with you.”

“I wish I could tell you to get used to it,” he said softly. “Because you'd be safe with me, babe.”

The endearment made her breath catch in her throat, and for a moment, she thought of what it would be like if he bent down and kissed her, but she cleared her throat and dropped her gaze.

“But you're leaving.” She nodded, repeating the words more to convince herself of them than to communicate anything to him. She pulled her hand out of his warm grip, her fingers feeling suddenly cold outside his grasp.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “But you could come along.”

“What?” She shot him a shocked look. “What do you mean?”

“Come with me.” He turned toward her, his clear gaze locked on hers. “I make enough to keep the three of us. Just come along.”

“I don't just move with men. I mean, we aren't married.”

“I know.” He heaved a sigh. “I just want to find a way to keep you with me.”

She let her gaze wander around the room, stopping at the sunny window. She stared at the bright scene outdoors for a moment, none of the details impacting her memory. Then she turned back. “You can't stay, can you?”

He shook his head slowly. “That fire, Rachel, it was...” He sighed. “I need a fresh start. I'd love to make that fresh start with you.”

She understood. Yesterday's paper had more pictures of that fire emblazoned across the front, and when she'd seen it, her first thought had been for Matt. It would stab him, and she knew it, and she understood exactly why he wanted to escape.

“I know I've been blaming this on Chris all along,” she admitted, her voice low. “That isn't fair. It's just an easy excuse, I suppose. It's true that Chris couldn't handle all this right now, but it's more than that. I can't be a firefighter's wife again, Matt. I just can't.”

“Even a fire chief's wife?”

“It's the same—” Tears welled up in her eyes. “The job will always come first.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's public service!” Her voice trembled with emotion as she met his eyes. “I've been down this path before. The job always comes first. When that siren goes off, your priority is the fire, and I get that. It has to be that way. I just hate it!”

“Someone has to do the job.”

“I know that, but I know better this time around. The first time, with Ed, I thought it would be romantic. Well, I've done it once, and I don't want to come in second again.” She shook her head. “Even now you can't stay. I know exactly why you can't stay—that fire, little Natalie, the memories—but it doesn't change the fact that a job is coming first.”

He didn't answer at first; then he slowly shook his head. “You think I'm putting you second? Is that it?” He stood up straight and came around to the front of her, his clear blue eyes blazing straight down into hers.

“Yes!” she retorted. “You are. You might not have a choice. What firefighter ever has a choice? But yes, I'm coming in second, and I'm tired of that life. I'm tired of being the one left at home to worry while the man in my life heads off to save someone else's family!”

He closed the gap between them and his lips came down onto hers, smothering her words. He pulled her closer, and she let herself melt into his strong arms. His lips pressed tenderly over hers, and as he pulled back, his hand moved up to her cheek. She leaned her face into his palm, wishing desperately that her answer could be different. Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat.

“Isn't it worth a try?” he asked.

“A relationship is hard work. It's not all rose petals. If I feel this frustrated with the job right now, it isn't going to change. I know that.”

“What if stayed?”

“Stayed?” She frowned. “Would you?”

He hesitated. “I could...for a little while.”

“A job like the one in South Maitland doesn't come along every day.” She shook her head. “I can't let you sacrifice that. You'd only resent us. Your life isn't here, and I know it.”

“And yours is,” he concluded.

“It has to be. This is for my son.”

“And I can't change your mind on that?”

“I'm so sorry, Matt. But no.” The room felt so small and smothering, and she sucked in a breath, trying to ground herself once more. She was a mother. She had responsibilities. “Maybe we should find Chris.”

Silence stretched between them for a beat, and Matt nodded.

“Yeah, let's go find him.” His tone was low and wooden. She looked up into his face once more, reading the pain and regret in his features, mirroring her own. As she passed him and moved toward the door, his broad hand warmed the small of her back while he guided her past him. She wished she could stop and lean into those strong arms of his again, but she propelled herself forward.

So this is what it feels like to break up.

* * *

Matt let Rachel leave the room ahead of him, his heart heavy. He wanted to pull her back, to wrap her in his arms again and see if just holding her close could fix anything. He knew better. He couldn't stay, and she couldn't be the wife of a firefighter. Why was it that the first time he felt like this about a woman, it was impossible for them to be together? This wasn't how he'd imagined this last night. He'd hoped that she'd agree to come with him and that they'd be happily planning their future right now... He sucked in a breath, pushing back the surge of sadness as he followed her into the hallway.