When Sparks Fly (57 page)

Rob pulled out his phone, quickly calling Jake.

Brock, still holding Jean’s hand, was looking up at Mac, fear now mixed with rage. Mac shook his head. “Take care of her now, Brock. Focus on her.”

Just then he felt a slight squeeze on his fingers. Whipping his head around, he looked down seeing chocolate eyes staring up at him.

“Sweetheart,” he choked out.

She tried to speak but the oxygen mask over her face kept her from being heard.

“Shhh,” he said. “Just breathe, don’t speak.”

She continued to struggle so he lifted the mask off for a moment. A whispered croak was all that came out, but he heard the words, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he said as a tear slid down his face.

As she was being loaded into the ambulance, Jake and Tom came rushing up. They glanced toward the house, the garage now embers; but seeing that most of the house survived, they turned toward Jean and Brock. With concerned looks they jogged over just as Brock was about to get into the ambulance. He turned, a hard look on his face, and said, “I want that bastard.”

Jake clapped him on the shoulder as Tom vowed, “We’ll get him this time.”

‡
Chapter Ten

A few hours later, Jean was still under observation in the hospital but waiting impatiently to be discharged. “Why am I still here? I need to get home and see what can be salvaged,” she said with frustration.

Carol, a nurse, replied, “Honey, you have to be observed for a while because of the concussion. I promise it won’t be long though.” She shared a look with Laurie and Emma that Jean caught.

“What are you not telling me? Did I lose everything? Is the whole house gone?” Her voice began to rise with each question, a feeling of panic setting in. “And where is Brock?” Seeing their guilty looks again only fueled her panic. Struggling to sit up, Carol rushed over and gently held her back.

“Jean, it’s okay. Please, stop.”

Laurie assured her, “Rob said your house was saved although the garage is gone and the kitchen has significant damage. There’s water and smoke damage, but honey, everything’s going to be okay.”

Jean lay back in the bed, tears finally overflowing. The events of the day suddenly loomed in her mind and she could not stop the sobs.

The women huddled close, each trying to offer comfort. “And where is Brock?” she wailed, not caring if she sounded like a petulant child.

Just then Brock came in and rushed over, gathering her in his arms. Scooping her close, he held her to his chest letting her tears soak his shirt. Rocking her back and forth, he uttered words of comfort until her tears began to subside.

Carol, Laurie, and Emma slipped out of the room, meeting Tom, Rob, and Jake just outside her door. Speaking in hushed tones, they decided to give the couple some privacy. Walking to the end of the hall, the men filled their women in on the afternoon’s activities and agreed that Brock should tell Jean when she was ready to hear everything.

“We need to talk about how to help them,” Emma said. “I don’t have a guest room right now,” she lamented, having just moved into her new home it was still in a state of upheaval.

“She can move in with us,” Laurie said and Rob agreed.

Before Carol and Tom could offer, Jake spoke up. “Look, my mom has the whole house to herself and with her arthritis, she could use both the help and having someone to take care of. In fact,” he confessed, “I already called her and she’s looking forward to having them.”

Laurie smiled, saying, “Your mom won’t mind if both of them stay there?”

Laughing, Jake replied, “Well, since she knows I stay with Emma, I hardly think she’ll mind.”

Moving back to her room, they entered seeing that Jean was calmer and resting against Brock as he held her with his arms wrapped protectively.

Blushing, Jean tried to apologize for her earlier outburst but was quickly shushed by everyone. “I just really want to see my house and see what needs to be done.”

Rob spoke up, explaining, “Your insurance agent has already been over to the house and began working. They’ll have all your furniture moved out and cleaned and make sure the house is habitable. You’ll work with them to have your house repaired and rebuilt. I promise, it’ll all work out.”

Her eyes filled with tears again as she thanked him. Brushing off her thanks, he said, “I hate to say it, but I’ve seen it lots of times. The main thing is you’re safe.”

Nodding her agreement, she turned to Brock and asked if he knew how her garage caught on fire.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but it was my fault,” he admitted. “It turns out that the arsonist really was Hank, the mayor’s son, and he was getting back at me for turning him in.”

“But that doesn’t make it your fault. Honey, you can’t take the blame when he was the one lighting the fires.”

Emma turned to Jake, asking, “How could it have been Hank? I thought you said he had alibis for all the other fires?”

“It seems he had an accomplice. The teenage girl that was caught in the back of the ambulance with him that night he was fired? Well, he’s been stringing her along and she claims to love him and would do anything for him.”

“Oh my God,” Emma exclaimed. “That’s horrible.”

“How did you catch him?” Jean asked.

Tom chuckled, admitting, “Well, you can thank your neighbor, Mrs. Philips.” Seeing her questioning expression, he continued, “She saw a blue Neon in your driveway earlier and saw Hank coming from your garage. According to the Fire Marshall, the fire was started by a slow burning rag that would eventually spark a gasoline rag leading to a pile of newspapers and other flammables.”

“Did the prick actually confess?” Brock growled.

“Yeah. We picked up the girl at her parents’ house and she told us all about the other fires. Once we arrested him, he began to sing hoping to get a plea bargain.”

Laurie grinned, “So now the mayor will be too busy with his own son’s troubles that he will leave the fire and police departments alone.”

Just then the doctor came into the crowded room and handed Jean her discharge instructions and papers. “You are free to leave,” she said. Stopping before she reached the door, she turned back to Jean saying, “You really are lucky you know.”

Jean just smiled and leaned further back in Brock’s embrace. “I know,” she whispered.

*

The Fourth of July dawned clear and bright and the sun peeked through the lacy curtains of the room she and Brock slept in. She yawned and stretched, then felt Brock’s arms pulling her in tightly. He’d always been a snuggler but this morning was different. It was as though he was afraid to let her go.

Twisting around, she faced him, cupping his scruffy face. She saw love shining from his stormy grey eyes as they stared back at her, the crinkles at the sides more pronounced. Rubbing her thumbs over the edges, she whispered, “Good morning.”

“It’s always a good morning when I wake up with you, sweetheart.”

Smiling, she kissed him. Hard. Long. Wet. Hearing noises from across the hall, they knew that Jake’s mom was stirring around.

“Hmm, looks like we might keep the efficiency for certain
activities
after all,” Brock observed.

Jean giggled and agreed. “We’ve got to get ready for the picnic and fireworks today,” she said.

“Do you feel like going?” he asked. “I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she exclaimed. “But, I don’t have anything to take.”

“There will be plenty of food, and believe me, the only thing that we want there is just you, baby.”

*

Several hours later, Jean and Brock met their friends at the picnic. The women spread blankets on the grass while the men put up several large canopies to keep the hot July sun from baking them. The women began unpacking the baskets, while the men went to the vendors and bought fried chicken and barbeque. By the time they got back, the women had all the picnic fixings out.

Mac and Bernie joined them, sitting with Jake’s mother, Mary. After the picnic, as the sun was sliding down the horizon, they looked up as the mayor took his place next to the band on the outdoor stage. Giving his traditional Fourth of July speech, the group was respectfully quiet and Jean could have sworn his eyes kept cutting over to their group.

The band started up again and couples began dancing in the grass. Jean stood and reached her hand out to Brock. “Dance with me?” she asked, a smile lighting her face.

“You sure you feel like it, sweetheart?” he asked.

“With your arms around me, there’s no place I’d rather be,” she said, pulling him close.

He happily obliged and wrapped her in his embrace. Tucking her in under his chin, he felt her soft body next to his and knew he’d found heaven. He’d loved once. A simple, untested love. A teenager’s love. His gaze wandered around to the friends that were paired off dancing as well, including the daughter that he had grown to love more than life and the strong, young man he would call son. He saw friends, co-workers, good people. The people of Fairfield. And with his arms around the woman he loved, he found a home.

Jean, her face tucked next to his strong heartbeat, closed her eyes as she breathed him in. Not since Rick had she felt such power in an embrace. She’d been alone for a very long time, but no longer wanted to be alone. She wanted this man to be the other half of herself. She wanted this forever.

It was almost time for the fireworks to begin, and the friends all lay back on quilts on the grass and stared toward the clear, night sky. The first explosion began the show and as Jean curled into Brock’s side, they watched the brilliant colors burst across the sky. One right after the other, the resounding booms of red, white, and blue sparkles filled the dark backdrop.

With his arms encircling her, Brock looked over as the colors and lights illuminated Jean’s face. “Jean Roberts, will you be my wife?”

She jerked her head to the side, staring at the face that had filled her dreams for months. The fireworks overhead made her wonder if she had heard him correctly.

Before she could speak, he quickly continued, “Life’s too short to not go for it, sweetheart. You and I are no longer as young as we were when love first touched us, and I don’t want to wait another minute.”