The Beekeeper's Daughter (Harlequin Super Romance) (4 page)

Ten minutes later he was back on the highway leading into Essex. He had the money for a motel, but hated to spend it unnecessarily. What was there to keep him in Garden Valley? Annie’s face popped into his head as clearly as if he were still sitting across the kitchen table from her.

The small upturned nose with its sprinkle of golden freckles. Eyebrows arched quizzically at him above her large, tawny eyes. She was all golden light, he realized, like the painting he’d been reminded of moments ago, only drawn in clear, strong lines. There was nothing delicate or ephemeral about Annie Collins.

Face it, man. You don’t want to leave. His mind made up, he continued toward Essex. But long before
the town limits, Will saw something he’d hoped not to for a long time. An inky black column of smoke spiraled up from a thicket of trees about a quarter of a mile ahead, on the left. Maybe a farmer was burning trash. As he drew nearer, Will saw a farmhouse and behind it, the burning roof of a barn.

He pulled over onto the gravel shoulder at the end of the driveway leading to the farmhouse. The fire was roaring unchecked, flames darting through the open barn doors and out the ground floor windows. Likely filled with hay, it was already a goner. Will couldn’t see anyone trying to douse the fire and unless help came quickly, the house was in danger too.

Sweat broke out on Will’s forehead and he felt suddenly nauseous. There wasn’t much he could do by himself. He had to get into the house and telephone for help. Surely there was at least a volunteer fire hall in town. If the valley wasn’t linked with a 911 system, he could probably raise an operator.

Still he sat, wasting precious seconds. What if he just kept on driving? No one would ever know he’d been there. Except, of course, he would. Will took a deep breath, jerked the door open and jumped down from the van.

A
DRENALINE GOT HIM
to the side door of the farmhouse, pounding and shouting above the fire. But something else held him there, seconds longer.
Fear.
Sweeping up from deep in his gut, bursting out in beads of sweat. Turning from the locked door, Will looked at the barn.

Was it his imagination, or did he really hear voices over the roar? He squinted into the thick, billowing gray smoke and his heart almost stopped. Was someone or something moving in there? He’d automatically assumed there were no animals in the barn because he hadn’t heard any cries. Could he have been mistaken? Will rubbed his eyes, smarting from the acrid smoke in the air. Nothing there. He forced himself to stay calm. This wasn’t Newark. He was at a barn fire in North Carolina. And if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to step one foot inside it.

Fortunately the slight breeze was coming from the right direction, wafting the sparks away from the house toward the clearing on the far side of the barn. He could at least try to delay the fire’s spread until the trucks arrived. That is assuming someone had spotted
the smoke and called in the alarm. If nobody arrived momentarily, he’d have to break into the house and call himself. Meanwhile, there should be some kind of garden hose.

Hand over his mouth and nose, he ran along the side of the house until he found the hose attached to a tap in the stone foundation. He cranked the faucet to the max, grabbed the hose by the nozzle and began to spray the section of house closest to the barn. The intense radiant heat of the fire could easily scorch and perhaps even ignite the house as well. The paint was already beginning to blister and the spray from the garden hose wasn’t going to be terribly effective. But until help arrived, it was all he could do.

Will was deciding which window to smash when he heard something behind him. He craned his neck, hoping to see an engine and tanker coming up the driveway. Instead, a bright yellow school bus idled beside the house and a stocky, barrel-chested man was running toward him.

“What the—?” He stopped, gasping for breath and staring at the barn, panic in his face. Then he snarled at Will, “Who the hell are you?”

It wasn’t quite the reception Will had been expecting. He didn’t think the man was looking for an introduction either. “If you live here,” he replied, raising his voice against the fire, “call the fire department. Now!”

But the man had already unlocked the side door and was disappearing inside before Will completed his sen
tence. The smoke was thickening. Will’s eyes stung and sweat dripped from his forehead. He doused his head and face with the hose, though the relief lasted no more than a few seconds. The man suddenly reappeared at his side and lunged for the hose.

Will let go, but when the man swung around to aim the hose at the fire, he grabbed his arm. “Forget the barn. Save your house!”

He stared at Will, his eyes wild. For a tense moment Will was afraid it would erupt into a fight, but the man suddenly directed the spray back to the house.

“Where’s the nearest fire hall?” Will hoped the guy wasn’t going to say Essex.

“Not far. It’s a volunteer brigade. They’re on the way.” He looked behind him at the barn. “Got an antique harvester in there.”

“Nothing else? Animals?”

The man shook his head. Will could see pain and frustration in his eyes. It was a look he’d seen many times after fires had wiped people out. Homes, possessions—not to mention lives.

“Let me do this,” Will said, moving his head closer to be heard. “You better move the bus out of the way before the trucks get here. Then start taking anything out of the house that you want to save.”

“You think it’ll spread to the house?” The man’s voice cracked.

“Just in case.” Focusing on the house would distract him from the barn and the antique harvester.

Hesitating for no more than a second, the man tossed the hose to him and vanished into the smoke. Will turned to check on the barn and saw that the roof was ablaze. No possibility of saving it now. He just hoped the guy had a good insurance policy. He also hoped the meager spray from the hose would be enough to keep the house from scorching before the trucks arrived.

A familiar sound rose above the roar of the fire—the muted wail of sirens. Will felt the tension ease out of him. An engine rolled up the driveway, followed by a tanker truck. Will squinted. Figures in heavy bunker gear and yellow helmets were jumping from the trucks and quickly unraveling hoses. One man stood apart, wearing a red helmet and shouting instructions. Noticing Will, he strode toward him.

“Who’re you? Where’s Warren?”

“If he’s the guy who lives here, he’s inside the house. I happened to be driving by and saw the smoke.”

The man stared at the hose in Will’s hand. “Leave that. I’ll get a couple of my men over here. There’s a shed behind the barn that needs cooling down, too.” He glanced behind him. “Too late for the barn.” He started to head for the tanker truck. “Stick around. I want to talk to you later.”

Will turned off the tap and stood aside as two men dragging a hose ran toward him. Responsibility was now on someone else’s shoulders, which suited him just fine.

He watched while two others began assembling the
metal frame of a portatank to hold the water from the tanker truck. Once the tanker dumped its water it would go back for a refill at the nearest water source. Will estimated there’d be seven minutes for the truck to race back before the portatank emptied. Hopefully, a reservoir or water tank serviced the farms in the valley and it was close enough.

The owner of the house was now outside, talking to the captain. The two looked quickly at Will, then away. Discussing who he was, he figured, and how he’d so coincidentally happened on the scene. He’d expected questions. It was no secret that arsonists often hung around to witness their work. But there were more pressing matters at the moment. The captain began to help another firefighter lug a hose around the side of the barn. Probably saving the shed.

The farm owner walked over to Will. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily. He held out his right hand. “Name’s Warren Lewis,” he said. “Wanna thank you for helping out.”

In spite of his words, Will saw wariness in the man’s eyes. Not quite sure what to make of me? Still, he clasped the outstretched hand. “Will Jennings.”

“Scotty—that’s the captain, Scott Andrews—said you did the right thing by cooling the house.” He lapsed into silence, watching the firefighters hosing down the house and the shed. The barn blazed unchecked. “If they had more men and another tanker truck, they could’ve saved the barn,” he muttered.

“For what it’s worth, the barn was already at peak when I got here.”

“Yeah?”

Warren’s curiosity prompted Will to add, “I…uh…used to be a firefighter.”

“So why aren’t you helping them?” He turned his head at a sudden shout from the firefighter at the portatank.

Will swore under his breath. He’d blown it. The portatank was probably full and the tanker would be leaving for a refill. They’d be a man short.

Lewis turned back to Will as the tanker began to reverse out of the driveway. “Where’s he going?”

“For more water. Is there a lake or something nearby?”

“There’s a reservoir about two miles down the road.”

Will nodded. They stared at each other for what seemed a long time before Will relented. “Guess I’ll see if they can use my help.” He jogged toward the man monitoring the portatank. Without protective gear, there was no way the captain would let him do anything nearer to the fire anyway.

The guy at the tank frowned when Will shouted that he’d watch the water pressure and do the refill when the tanker returned. Will could hardly blame him, knowing that firefighters seldom wanted civilian help. “It’s okay,” he said, raising his voice, “I know what I’m doing. I used to work for the Newark Fire Department.”

The other man shouted back, “The truck’ll be back soon and the tank’ll need refilling right away. We got about three minutes of water left here.”

A tight time frame. Likely one of many drawbacks to rural firefighting. Still, it seemed that the guy had no sooner dashed to help the hose men working on the house than Will heard the tanker returning.

As soon as the truck pulled up alongside, Will had already extended the chute and pressed the electronic switch. Water gushed into the tank. Except for a brief look of surprise, the firefighter who had driven the truck accepted his presence. They worked silently and quickly until the tank was full again. The man motioned that he was going for another refill and climbed back into the tanker.

As the truck left for more water, Will looked across the smoke-filled yard at the barn. In spite of what he’d said to Lewis, he knew if they’d been in a city where water was handy, the men would have made some attempt to save as much of the barn as they could.

Time was suspended as the repetitive pattern of emptying and refilling continued. At one point, the captain appeared a few yards from where Will was working and watched briefly before disappearing around the side of the barn. Will could see that he was directing a couple of the men to work on the barn now that the fire there had peaked. Probably wanted to hurry the burn-out so that they could finish the job and go home. It was already dark.
The pale yellow glow from an outside light above the side door of the house was barely visible through the smoke.

Suddenly a car roared up the driveway and pulled over next to the school bus. A woman climbed out, her face toward the barn. She had the dazed, disbelieving look of someone waking to a nightmare. Then she spotted Lewis and ran to him. They wrapped their arms around each other and somberly watched the last of their barn crumble.

Most of the men were working on the barn, hosing down the embers. Wafts of steam mingled with the smoke and the men shifted in the thick night air like wraiths in a horror movie. Except for the hiss of water on fire and the crash of falling beams, the yard was quiet. Will heard the tanker coming. The last run, he figured. The big job now would be mopping up and hanging around to make sure the embers didn’t reignite. He helped the tanker driver load up the portatank and when they finished, the man thanked him.

Will nodded. He’d have liked to get back in his van and head to town for a shower and a cold beer. Except the captain, directing the mop-up, kept glancing his way. He sighed. The evening wasn’t going to end any time soon.

But things moved quickly once the remaining embers had been doused. The firefighters worked silently as they put away their equipment. Will recalled all too well the mood after a fire. The first rush of anxiety on arrival at a blaze led rapidly to a routine polished by practice and real-life runs. Save lives, then save prop
erty. Afterward, the relief was always muted by the realization of loss and suffering.

The captain finished his conversation with Warren Lewis and his wife and headed in Will’s direction. He’d removed his helmet and the balaclava beneath it, his face and forehead slick with perspiration. He leaned against the tanker truck beside Will and, taking a handkerchief from his coat pocket, wiped his face. Then he withdrew a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Will.

“No thanks.”

Lighting up, the captain took a long draw, releasing the smoke slowly before speaking again. “I’m Scott Andrews, by the way.”

“Yeah. Warren told me.”

“Appreciate the help, Jennings. Especially manning the portatank.” He took another drag on his cigarette before adding, “Warren said you’re a firefighter.”

“Was,” Will corrected. “In New Jersey.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I gotta say, I figured you knew something about fires. Most civvies would’ve been trying to put out the barn with the garden hose.”

Will didn’t say anything.

“Sorry for the initial suspicion,” Andrews went on, “but we’ve had a few barn fires in the area lately. Any stranger needs checking out—especially one so conveniently on the scene.”

“I’d have done the same, in your place.”

Andrews looked at him. “On a leave of some kind?” His eyes flicked from Will’s eyes to his scar.

“Nope. Quit.”

“You get that in a fire?”

No beating around the bush with the guy. Still, his bluntness was refreshing. It reminded him of Annie’s question earlier in the day. He nodded. “Yeah.”

Andrews fell silent, finishing his cigarette. Will waited until the other man finally asked, “Where were you coming from? This road is hardly a main highway.”

“I was visiting Ambrosia Apiaries, not far from here. Then I went to some campsite—I don’t remember the name—to see if I could stay there for the night. No one was around so I was heading into Essex.” Will took a deep breath. “Mind if I go now? It’s getting late.”

“You a friend of the Collins family?”

Will sighed. The guy had obviously missed his calling. He should’ve been a cop. “I’m on a road trip and was driving through the valley when I saw the apiary sign. I was curious. I had a tour of the place and as I was leaving, Annie told me about the campsite.”

Andrews stared at him for a long tense moment. “Like I said, I appreciate your help. And so does Warren. He had an antique harvester in there. Good thing you were around to keep him from getting hurt going after it.”

The compliment must’ve meant he’d decided to accept his story. Will rubbed his face, wondering if it was as sooty as the captain’s. “Look, if you don’t mind, I should be finding a place for the night. Right now a shower and a cold beer are all I’m interested in.”

Andrews smiled. “You’n me both. As a matter of fact, one of my men owns that campsite. He’s at home sick today, but I can give him a call.”

Will considered the offer for a moment, but hot water and a frosty ale were too irresistible. “Thanks, but for tonight I’d rather be in town. Maybe I could get his name and number from you though, in case I decide to stick around?”

“Sure. Hang on for a sec. I need to talk to Warren.” He walked to where the couple stood staring at their ruined barn.

Will waited by his van. He was worn out. Just pumping out the tanker had left him exhausted—a sign he had yet to recoup his strength since the accident. He saw the captain gesture toward what was left of the barn as he spoke to Warren. No doubt the local fire marshal would have to come take a look, especially if there’d been an outbreak of fires in the area.