Touch of Fire (2 page)

“Sam?”

“My daughter.” Garrett pulled out of the parking lot back onto Friars Road and headed west.

“Maybe you should call and warn your wife that you’re bringing home a mangy stray?”

He swallowed hard, fingering the plain gold wedding band on his left hand. “It’s just Sam and me.”

“Divorce can be hard.”

Garrett stopped for a light and turned to look at her. “Death is harder. She died three and a half years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Garrett nodded. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

“We hadn’t been close in a long time. My parents divorced when I was thirteen. My mom, she passed away just six months ago. Brain tumor.”

His head snapped up. “Amanda had brain cancer too. How strange is that?”

“Was she ill for a long time?”

Garrett didn’t respond.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Nicole said. “It’s just, well, it helps to talk to people who understand—”

“I don’t usually talk about it.”

“I don’t usually require rescuing from burning buildings.”

“The building you were in wasn’t burning. Yet.”

“Right.” She gestured toward the cell. “Was something wrong?”

“My neighbors watch Sam while I work,” Garrett replied, relieved at the change in subject. “They’re an elderly couple. Apparently Mr. Thompson fell and broke his hip last night. He’s in the hospital.”

The light changed and he drove onto the 163 heading south toward Mission Hills. Within minutes they were pulling up to the old fire station on Goldfinch.

Garrett turned off the truck’s engine and hopped out. “Wait here. I’ll get my stuff and my car.”

Chapter Two

The neighborhood buzzed with activity. A young woman passed in front of the truck, pushing a stroller and walking her dog. Nicole tracked her progress as she made her way to the corner where a homeless man stood, talking to himself and compulsively shuffling a deck of playing cards. Next to him two elderly ladies gestured wildly while they conversed in Italian. It seemed an almost surreal scene, considering the destruction of homes that was going on just miles away. Leaning her head back against the headrest of the seat, Nicole closed her eyes and released a tired sigh.

The warmth inside the truck felt soothing. Just as she was starting to drift off, a tap on the window startled her.

Garrett opened the door. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. Let me give you a hand.”

“I can manage.”

“Don’t be silly.” Garrett helped her into his old 1978 Mustang. “It won’t be long now. I’m just a few blocks away.”

“Some car.”

He smiled. “She’s a beauty. Restored her myself, though it was a bit out of necessity at the time. My last car died right after I bought my house and this was what I could afford. Now, I can’t seem to let her go.”

“The old, beat-up Volkswagen Bug was mine,” Nicole replied, silently wondering how she was going to replace it. “I’ve had it since college. It had character. The heater hadn’t worked for ages, but…” She pressed her fingers to her eyes, trying to stave off a renewed flow of tears. Her foot was starting to throb in earnest and the emotional impact of what might have happened was starting to take its toll. She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Garrett turned another corner and pulled up to a small cottage. The single-story Craftsman bungalow was painted a cheerful yellow and surrounded by a white picket fence and a vast array of California wildflowers. “Let’s get you settled, then I’ll go pick up Sam.”

“Trusting a stranger alone in your house? Not very smart.”

“I’m not worried. I’m pretty sure I can take you. Besides, Nicole Brooks, you are no longer a stranger. Wait here a second.”

Nicole watched him transfer his gear from the trunk of his car to his porch and unlock the front door. Within a few minutes he’d moved everything inside and had returned to the car. “Think you can make it inside?”

“Sure!” She tried her best to sound confident. But the minute her left foot hit the pavement she winced. Her cuts were angry and swollen now, the pain increasing by the minute.

Garrett scooped her up effortlessly. “Up you go.”

Nicole blushed. “You don’t have to carry me.”

“Can’t have you hobbling on that foot now, can I?” He walked up the path to his front porch and climbed the stairs, pausing when he reached the door and nodding at the mailbox. “Mind grabbing the mail for me, darlin’?”

Nicole reached in and pulled out the handful of items that had been stuffed into the antique brass box. “Hmm, something in a plain brown wrapper?”

“That would be Sam’s.”

“Just how old is Sam?” Nicole clutched the magazine to her breast. “You don’t
really
expect me to believe this is hers?”

Garrett looked at her pointedly, then crossed over the threshold into his living room.

“She’s four. But, for the record, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

Nicole laughed.

She barely had time to notice the interior of the house as Garrett swiftly carried her the short distance down the hall and into the bathroom. He set her down on top of the counter before going over to the tub and turning on the taps to fill the bath.

Nicole dropped the mail next to the sink, then slipped off the counter and hopped over to him.

“You should stay off that foot.”

She sat down on the edge of the tub and peered inside. Leaning over, she reached down to retrieve the naked Barbie that had been lying on the bottom alongside a few other toys.

“Sam’s?”

“Um, no. That’s mine. But if you’re nice I might be willing to share.” He took the doll and tossed it into the basket by the tub along with the other toys. “Soak your foot. I’ll clean it when I get back and see about getting those shards of glass out. It won’t take me but a minute to run across the street and pick up Sam. Think you can manage?”

“No problem.”

“Great.” He headed for the door.

“Garrett?”

He turned back to face her. “Yeah?”

“Do you, um, maybe have something else I could wear?”

Garrett frowned. “My mom talked me into finally getting rid of most of Amanda’s things a couple months ago.” He looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet. “I’ll find something. You get cleaned up.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble. I’d understand if you don’t want me wearing her things. Those memories, they’re important. Maybe you have a t-shirt?”

He looked up at her, his clear blue eyes connecting directly with hers. “Yes.”

“Yes, you have a t-shirt?”

“Yes, memories are important.”

“Right.”

“But they’re not…”

“What?”

He shook his head. “I have a shirt that you can wear,” he told her. Then quietly, without so much as a glance back in her direction, he closed the door.

While waiting for the tub to fill, Nicole took a moment to look around the bathroom. The tub, sink, and commode were plain white porcelain. The floor was covered in white tile. The same tile lined the shower and went two-thirds of the way up the walls, which were painted in a red and white stripe. Matching red towels hung neatly on the towel racks. In addition to the basket of bath-toys on the floor next to the bath, an Elmo toothbrush sat on the sink.

Nicole picked up a container of bath salts, unscrewed the lid, and inhaled. The soothing scents of rosemary and lavender were instantly relaxing. She poured in a generous amount, pulled her slip off, then carefully climbed into the bath hissing as her injured foot entered the water.

With some awkwardness, she eased all the way into the bath. She leaned back, allowing her shoulders to sink below the level of the water, and breathed deeply. After a few minutes the pain begin to diminish. Soon she found herself alone with her thoughts.

The past six months had been unbearably hard for her. She’d lost so much. First her mother had passed away and she’d sold off her childhood home to pay the inevitable hospital bills. Then her father died and now his home was probably no more than a pile of ash and rubble.

At least there was still Ann, her sister. They’d always been close, but now all they had was each other.

“Enough wallowing!” she quietly scolded herself before submerging her head in the hot water. She stayed under as long as she could, then she sat back up and reached for the shampoo. Nicole read the caption on the bottle, “No more tears” it promised.

She poured a generous amount into the palm of her hand, worked the lather into her hair, then slid once more under the water.

“Sam, wait a sec, darlin’!” Garrett called out from somewhere just as Nicole broke the surface of the water.

“I got to go potty!” a little voice shouted back. The bathroom door flew open, banging loudly as it struck the wall.

“Sam!” Garrett stopped in the doorway. He quickly spun around, hand over his eyes, and stepped back into the hall.

Sam ran right up to the tub. “Dad! Barbie’s alive!”

“Sam, come on out of there! Remember our talk about privacy, sweetheart?”

“I don’t care if Barbie’s in here while I go potty. I don’t need privacy.” The little girl climbed up onto the toilet. “Really, I don’t.”

Nicole pulled the curtain. “Garrett, it’s all right. Just close the door. And my name’s Nicole, sweetie.”

“Oh! She talks too! Wait ‘til I tell Gillian!”

*****

Garrett awkwardly reached back, blindly searching for the door. His palms were sweaty and his heart was racing like mad. As soon as his hand connected with the knob, he quickly pulled the door closed.

“Good God!” He looked down at his slightly trembling hands, leaned heavily against the wall, then slid down its length until he was crouched on the floor. “Get hold of yourself. It’s just the smell of her bath salts,” he murmured struggling to overcome his feelings of arousal and guilt. Garrett looked down at his wedding ring and closed his eyes.

*****

“I’m so sorry, Garrett” Amanda said. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined all of your plans. And you went to so much trouble making dinner and getting a sitter.”

Garrett smiled down at her as he slid the now soiled pajama top from her frail shoulders. “Nothing to be sorry about. You can’t help it. You’re sick, baby. I just wish the food would stay down. You’re as weak as a kitten.”

“Maybe I can try some broth after my bath?”

“That’s my girl. You’ll feel better after a nice long soak. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as Garrett lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bathroom. “You used to love to brush my hair. Remember? Now it’s all falling out. I’m going to be bald. This isn’t how I want you to remember me.”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s going to be all right. You’ll see. In a few months your hair will grow back. It’s only hair. You’re still beautiful, darlin’.” He pushed open the
bathroom door, carried her across the threshold, then carefully lowered her into the bath. Candles surrounded the tub and he’d taken the time to add her favorite bath salts to the water.

“Thank you for loving me,” Amanda whispered.

“I will always love you,” Garrett promised, his heart breaking as he leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

*****

“Daddy, is your feelings hurting?”

Garrett quickly wiped the tears from his face and climbed to his feet. “I’m good, baby. Just a bit tired is all. No worries. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

“I ate with Angela and Brenda,” Sam replied, brushing her long, dark brown hair out of her eyes. “Angela makes pamcakes in funny shapes. They made me laugh. Oh! I almost forgot. Miss Nicole is stuck. She needs help.”

“Stuck?” He turned toward the door. “Sam, you go get dressed. Angela and Brenda will be here to pick you up soon.”

He heard her walk down the hall and open the door to her room. He waited for her to go inside, then he raised his hand and knocked on the bathroom door. “Everything all right?”

“I’ve managed to get out, but it was touch and go there for a while. I could use a shirt or something, though.”

“One shirt coming right up.” Garrett ran back to his bedroom and quickly pulled a white dress shirt out of the closet. By the time he returned to the bathroom Nicole was standing in the open doorway, balancing on one foot, the bright red bath sheet wrapped around her.

“Do you have any Band-Aids?”

Garrett handed her his shirt. “Did you clean the wounds and get all of the glass out?”

“You said to soak. I soaked.” She motioned for him to turn around.

He turned his back on her and waited patiently.

“There. It’s safe to turn around now,” Nicole said.

“Sorry about the interruption earlier. We’ve really been working on the knocking thing. She doesn’t quite have it down yet.”

Nicole rolled up the long sleeves of the shirt, then picked one of the combs up from the counter. “Do you mind?”

“No. Go on.” He leaned against the doorjamb.