Love Inspired June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: The Cowboy's Homecoming\The Amish Widow's Secret\Safe in the Fireman's Arms (51 page)

Chapter Eleven

T
rouble in Paradise
. Jake smelled it in the air the minute he walked into the hardware store. Mack greeted him at the door, clipboard in hand, and followed him to the office.

“Okay, let me have it,” he told his father as he booted up his computer and flipped on the monitor.

“Someone spray-painted graffiti on the back of the store. Way up high. Can't reach it with the ladder. Coincidentally, we're missing six cans of spray paint.”

“Nice of them to use our paint. Call the security company and have them run the video footage. Maybe we can find our minor-league criminal.” Jake paused. “I'm wondering how they got up so high”

“No clue.”

“Can you rent a cherry picker?”

“I'll check on that,” Mack said.

“Tourist season. You gotta love it,” Jake muttered.

He walked over to the coffeepot and eyed the carafe, and then leaned over and sniffed. Mocha vanilla, Irish crème, hazelnut something. Just as he suspected. Bitsy had his father drinking that flavored stuff again.

“Dad, I thought we agreed. No flavored coffee until afternoon. A compromise.”

“Sorry, son, but Bitsy came by with a new one for me to try. Red-velvet cheesecake.”

Jake grimaced and shuddered.

If he hadn't hit the snooze button he could have beat his father in and enjoyed a cup of real java. Jake opened the small refrigerator and grabbed a can of soda.

“Jacob. Soda at nine in the morning?”

“It's diet.”

“Did you buy those vitamins Bitsy recommended?”

Jake slowly straightened and turned to his father. He opened his mouth, thought better of it and clamped his lips together.

Popping open the can, he downed the contents with relish. “Anything else?” he asked, referring to the clipboard, not the vitamins.

“Yes. You have a meeting with the sheriff in thirty minutes about some top-secret fire issue. He refused to tell me what's going on. Oh, and one of the cashiers wants to take a week off to go fishing. Need your approval.” Mack thrust a pink PTO form at him.

Maybe he should consider going fishing. He'd already paid for the license. He set the form on the counter and scrawled his name.

There was a silence in the office as Jake read his mail. Looking up, Jake realized his father was still staring at him, a firm set to his jaw.

“Something else?”

“Sally-Anne called and left a message. She wants you to come over for dinner Friday night. She claims she called last week, too.” Mack scratched his head. “I can't say I recall that.”

Jake looked at this father. He nearly laughed out loud. If Sally-Anne had called last week, too, his father had torn up the message. Jake was grateful so he sure wasn't going to call Mack out on that one.

“Why would Sally-Anne call and invite me to dinner all of a sudden?”

“Got me.” Mack stared at him with a disapproving frown. “Thought she gave up on you years ago. Unless...”

“What?” Jake wished he could bite back the word. He shouldn't have opened that gate. Knew it as sure as he knew the sun was going to set tonight.

“Are you encouraging Sally-Anne? That way lies nothing but drama, son,” Mack continued.

“Oh, for Pete's sake, I'm not encouraging her.”

“Sounds like it to me. Or why would she call?”

“Dad. I'm nearly forty years old, not fourteen. I think I can handle my personal life.” He glared at the coffeepot. “I'm heading out to Patty Jo's for a real coffee and then to that meeting with Sam.”

He shoved through the double glass doors and fished in his pocket. The keys were on his desk. Terrific. Well, he'd just have to walk, because he sure wasn't going back in there until he had a few cups of coffee under his belt. He needed to burn off this nagging irritation and ominous feeling that something was about to blow wide open.

Jake released a breath and slowed his stride. Maybe if he'd spent a little more time in prayer this morning. He was as guilty as the next guy of talking, praying and not actually stopping on occasion to listen. Just in case God had something He wanted to say.

He sincerely hoped that it wasn't a serious omission and God would give him some sort of wisdom on how to deal with everything that came his way today.

Looking up, he saw Maggie down the street. If he continued on his walk to the sheriff's department, they'd pass each other. He could use a dose of Maggie Jones sunshine this morning. Besides, after their strange conversation as they left Bitsy's, maybe it would be good to touch base.

Maggie gave a friendly wave, and then suddenly turned and walked in the other direction.

That was odd. Maybe he'd call her later and ask her to dinner. Then he could honestly tell Sally-Anne he had plans.

Great idea. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain Maggie was the best cure for a lousy day.

* * *

“Oh, Jake, I'm sorry. I have the Ladies Auxiliary tonight.”

“I thought they met on Wednesdays.” Phone in hand, he glanced at the calendar on his desk.

“It's a special session at Bitsy's house for your summer fire-safety day. The women are really getting behind this idea full force.”

“Okay, sure, yeah. I get it. Great that they're so enthusiastic. What about tomorrow night?” he asked.

“You know, I'm pretty busy all this week. But I will see you next week when we meet with your father and Bitsy again.”

“Next week. So you aren't going to the party at the Elliott Ranch, either?”

“I've got so much planting and bee work to do.”

“Bee work?”

“Yes. My hives.”

“Your hives. Don't know how I forgot about them.”

The line was silent for a moment.

“Are we okay, Maggie?”

“I consider you one of my closest friends. Of course we're okay.”

“Friends. Right.” He was starting to really dislike that word.

“Um, Jake, when exactly is your election?”

“Not until November.” He flipped the pages on the calendar. “Four months.”

“November,” Maggie murmured. “That seems a long way off.”

“It is a long way off. Why do you ask?'

“Just curious.” She sighed.

“Are you sure everything is all right, Maggie?”

“I'm great. Why?”

“You seem a little off today.”

“Oh, no. I'm fine. Couldn't be better.”

“So I guess I'll see you around.”

“Paradise is a small town and we have summer fire-safety day coming up,” she practically chirped.

“Can't wait.”

He put down the phone. Despite her reassuring words, his gut told him something was definitely off. He had a wild hunch that if he dug a little deeper, his intuition would point straight to Bitsy Harmony. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that she was behind whatever was going on with Maggie.

The only good news so far today was that Sam's background check on Maggie came up empty. Not even a parking ticket in her DMV report. Guilt had addled Jake for hours after he'd asked Sam to run the report.

Truth be told, he hadn't been absolutely certain Maggie didn't have something strange in her background. Some friend he was. She was an upstanding citizen and he'd doubted her.

Jake glanced at the clock and picked up the phone. What he needed was to get out of town. A little time and space might provide the perspective he so badly needed. And he could use a sympathetic ear to join him. Sam Lawson was the first name that came to mind.

“Sheriff's department, administrative assistant Bitsy Harmony speaking. How may I direct your call?”

“Bitsy, it's Jake. Is Sam around?”

“Yes, Chief, I'll transfer you.”

Jake waited a second and then Sam came on the line. “What's up, Jake?”

“Let's go fishing.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Sam, you there?”

“Call me on my cell in a minute,” Sam said.

Jake disconnected, waited and redialed Sam's direct number.

“Bitsy listening in?” Jake asked.

“Always. I'm in my truck. She's had her ear to the ground and her fingers in my business all week. I don't know why, but it must be something big. Your timing is perfect. I sure could use a break. I'll call my deputy. He can cover today. I'm off tomorrow and Sunday.”

“I'll pack the food. You get the bait.”

“Can we get the cabin on Paradise Lake?” Sam asked.

“I called Bob Jones. It's ours.”

“Duffy coming?”

“No. He's got a crush on Maggie. I don't want to spend my fishing time hearing him moon over her. I asked you because you're not half in love with her like everyone else in this town.”

Sam laughed. “So I'm the only one without the good sense to fall for the woman you're in love with? I'm not sure if you've given me a compliment or an insult.”

“I'm not in love with Maggie.”

“You just keep telling yourself that.” Sam laughed again. “I'll see you at the cabin.”

Jake relaxed in his chair. Finally, things were under control again. Like the way they used to be.

He grinned, pleased with himself and eager for a break from his responsibilities. It was time for his life to go back to the way it was. Maybe this break would help keep one Maggie Jones off his mind and out of his heart.

Chapter Twelve

W
hat happened? Four weeks ago she'd arrived in Paradise to start over. Now everything was all messed up. Jake, her parents, Beck.

Maggie gave the nearest bag of peat moss a vengeful kick. It burst open, spewing its contents into the air. Grabbing a rake, she spread the peat moss over the garden.

There wasn't a thing she could do right now about Jake and her parents, except pray, but Beck... It was nearly eight o'clock on a Saturday evening. She'd bet he was home. She could and would deal with him.

She washed her hands and tossed on clean clothes. Ten minutes later she was on her bike, pedaling with determination down the street.

A car. She needed a car and soon. Transporting flowers and plants in the basket was becoming ridiculous. Maybe Mack could give her a lead on a vehicle.

She turned her head toward Mack's house, but it was dark. He was no doubt at Bitsy's enjoying dinner. Maggie easily admitted that she was envious of their relationship. The easy friendship and affection.

Behind Mack's little house, the sun had barely begun to set, providing a brilliant palate of orange and red against a silhouette of clouds. The fading blue sky still managed to peek through.

Maggie froze. A dark cloud moved quickly, winding through the sky.

Smoke. Not a cloud.

Was that smoke coming from the back of Mack's house? It sure was.

She jumped off her bike and let it crash to the cement as she ran up to the door and banged. “Mack?”

Maggie stepped back to assess the continuing trail of smoke. Yes. From the house and becoming thicker and darker. She was not imagining this.

Reaching for her cell, she hit 9-1-1.

“Nine-one-one. Paradise after-hours emergency dispatch. What is the nature of your emergency?”

“Smoke. Call the Paradise Fire Department. 92 Mulberry Lane. And call Bitsy Harmony.” She shoved the phone into her pocket and dashed over to the big picture window, moving around until she finally found an angle that allowed her to peer into the living room through the glass.

Mack was in a chair in the living room, slumped and not moving.

Maggie's heart accelerated. “No, Lord. Not Mack. Help me, please.”

She groaned as she picked up an iron lawn chair from the porch and heaved it at the window. The center pane shattered, leaving large shards. Maggie removed her jacket and wrapped it around her hand. She punched at the shards until she had a path into the house.

Jumping through the window, her sneakered foot landed on a piece of glass. She slid across the oak floor, landing face-first against a large piece of furniture. It wobbled precariously.

Maggie shook her head and rolled over onto broken glass. Grabbing a table, she stood and leaned against the wall until she had her balance back.

“Grace under pressure, Maggie. Way to go.”

Heat licked her face. Heat, but no visible flames. Good.

The entrance to the kitchen had become thick with smoke, obliterating her field of vision past the dining room table.

“Mack.” She jostled him. “Mack,” she screamed. He barely moved, his eyelids flickering in response. Maggie checked for a pulse in his neck.

Strong. Thank You, Lord.

The looming smoke inched closer.

Maggie coughed and tucked her head down and away from the smoke. “We have to get out. Now, Mack.”

She unlocked the front door and propped open the screen. Frantic, she glanced around, spotting a large quilt on the couch.

She tossed it on the ground and half dragged, half carried Mack from the chair onto the quilt. Fire horns sounded in the distance, followed by sirens.

The Paradise Volunteer Fire Department. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Engine Number One never sounded so beautiful.

All she had to do was get Mack out of the house.

Give me the strength to do this, Lord.

Drag him. That's all I have to do. A few more inches to the door.

Maggie panted with the effort. Sweat dripped into her eyes, blurring her vision and she wiped it away with a raised shoulder.

The threshold. Just have to get him across that threshold.

“Sorry, Mack. You're going to have a few bruises in the morning. This is a bumpy ride.”

“We've got him, Maggie,” Duffy said from behind her. “Grab the ends,” he directed two firemen, who lifted Mack away from the house.

“I need a gurney and some oxygen, stat,” Duffy yelled.

Around her, the noises of firemen pulling hoses and ladders as they began to attempt to extinguish the fire filled the air.

Maggie blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “Oh, Duffy, thank you for coming so fast.”

“Maggie, what happened?”

“I drove by on my bike and saw smoke.”

“The window?”

“I broke the glass and jumped into the house.”

His eyes popped open as his gaze moved from the window and back to her. With a sweeping glance he assessed her and frowned. “Medic! We've got a laceration. I need another gurney over here,” he called out.

“For who?” Maggie asked, glancing around.

“Maggie—” he winced “—you're bleeding all over the place.”

* * *

The room was dark, the only real illumination coming from a sliver of light visible at the bottom of the door. Maggie blinked, orienting herself. The patient controls rested on the bed, glowing red and green. Next to her an IV pump beeped at intervals, the digits flashing a constant rhythm as the machine counted the drips.

She reached up and touched her face. A bandage covered her right temple. Gingerly moving her fingers lower, she stopped at her right cheekbone and discovered another bandage. The area around that eye was swollen and definitely painful to the touch.

Shifting on the sheets, she grasped the controls, examining them and finally pressing a button to turn on the lights above her bed. Maggie squinted and adjusted to the brightness. Another button and the bed slowly rose, lifting her to a sitting position. She winced at the aches in her ribs where she'd sailed across the floor at Mack's house.

Outside the room voices echoed. Her ears perked. One was a familiar male.

Jake?

Instinctively Maggie began to lift an arm to run a hand through her hair. But which arm?

Her right hand was effectively taped to IV tubing, which connected her to the blue machine next to her bed. It winked, as though enjoying her predicament.

The left hand, while free, had a thick layer of gauze and tape covering the arm from her wrist to her elbow. Resting on a pillow, the arm throbbed with any movement.

She chose the lesser of two evils. Her right arm, though her fingers kept getting caught in the snarls on her head. A tiny piece of glass fell onto the bed and Maggie picked it up and placed it on the over-the-bed table.

Two taps on the door preceded a harried nurse in navy blue scrubs into the room. The young woman slipped in, then rested against the closed door.

“Miss Jones,” she said, exasperation lacing her voice. “The chief of the Paradise Volunteer Fire Department is here. I've informed him it is after visiting hours, but he insists upon seeing you right now.”

“It's okay, he's a friend. He's not here to take a report or anything.”

“Are you sure you want to see him?”

“Yes,” Maggie nodded. “Handsome, isn't he?”

The nurse's eyes widened for a moment. When she answered, her voice held a hint of a smile. “Well, yes, but he's also obstinate and impatient.”

“True. We better let him in.”

“Are you sure? He seems pretty scary.”

“Jake?” Maggie laughed. “He's all bark.”

“I'll take your word for that.” She gave Maggie a doubtful look as she reached for the door. “Be back to take your vital signs in about an hour. Do you need anything for pain?”

“No. But could you tell me why I have this?” Maggie asked, cocking her head toward the IV pump.

“Antibiotics.” She pulled a folded paper from her pocket and reviewed it. “The report I got from ER is that the gash on your arm is pretty nasty. You have quite a few stitches under that dressing. The doctors debated about transfusing due to blood loss and decided to pump you with fluids and see if you bounced back on your own.”

“So when will you know?”

“We'll draw your blood again in the morning and notify the doctor. However, the fact that you are awake, sitting up and excited to see a handsome fireman tells me that you're a fast healer.”

Maggie smiled. “What time is it?”

“Midnight. You came up from ER about an hour ago. We're waiting on the results of the X-ray and scan.”

An hour ago? She barely remembered the emergency room. Barely remembered the ambulance. She did remember the fire.

“How's Mack?”

“Mack?” the nurse asked.

“Mack MacLaughlin. Chief MacLaughlin's father. It was his house fire. Was he admitted?”

“Not that I know of and this is a small hospital.”

Relieved, Maggie leaned back against the pillows. “Good.”

The nurse left and discussion erupted again in the hall, voices rising.

When the door creaked open Jake stuck his head in.

“Jake?” The man who entered looked the antithesis of the Jake MacLaughlin she'd come to know and—yes, she sighed.

Love.

There it was. She couldn't deny the way her heart thumped into overdrive at the mere sight of him. The thought of never seeing him again had haunted her when the smoke poured into Mack's house and she struggled to save herself and Mack.

Jake.

He gave her a lopsided grin. A five-o'clock shadow darkened his face, and his amber eyes were bleary and bloodshot. His short blond hair stuck up at angles, as though he'd run his fingers through it a million times and finally gave up. His rumpled shirt was buttoned wrong and from what she could see, where his jacket didn't cover him, the shirt was half tucked in and half out of his wrinkled blue jeans.

“Good grief, what happened to you?” she asked.

Jake rubbed a hand over his face. He stared at her for moments before answering, assuring himself that she was indeed alive and well.

Finally his breathing slowed and his heart rate returned to normal. He slowly shook his head.

Leave it to Maggie to try to turn the tables on him again. He bit back the answer that came to him.

You. You're what's happened to me, Maggie.

Instead he said, “Me? Look at you. Duffy said you were playing Superman. Did you really dive through a plate-glass window?”

“I have no idea what plate glass is,” she said. “I reacted. That's all.”

Maggie was every bit as pale as the white sheets and hospital gown she wore. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face. But there had been no mistaking the pleasure in her eyes when he'd walked into the room.

Yeah, he was glad to see her, too. Relief had slammed into him like a fire truck, the moment he realized she was, indeed, okay.

Jake shook his head. He should have never left to go fishing. So much for his plan to keep Maggie out of his life and his heart.

Their eyes met and he flinched at the blue-and-purple bruise and the swelling that decorated her right eye and cheekbone. She'd be sporting that shiner for at least a week or two.

“Is there a place on you that isn't bruised or bandaged?”

“You're exaggerating.”

“No, I'm not. And according to the report I got from Sam, you're a hero.” He walked closer to her bed. “You saved my father's life.”

Her eyes widened at his words.

Jake stared hard at Maggie. He'd never for the rest of his life be able to forget the moment he got the call from Bitsy informing him about the fire. He'd quickly called Duffy and managed to impatiently interrupt him several times to get to the important facts on Maggie and his father.

She saw the smoke as she biked by his father's house. How had she managed to single-handedly pull an unconscious man out of the house?

He shook his head. Maggie has two left feet, so naturally she fell while doing it, cutting herself on the glass from the window she'd broken to get in the house in the first place.

As he'd listened to Duffy, Jake realized one thing. Maggie Jones meant much more to him than he ever planned. More than he could quite comprehend.

More than he was prepared for.

He paced back and forth at the foot of her bed. Hospitals. They plain made him nervous.

“Have you seen your father?”

“Huh?” The question pulled him from his silent reverie.

“Your father?” she asked again.

“Bitsy is with my dad. They gave him a couple of respiratory therapy treatments and released him. He's at my house.”

“Good.” Maggie breathed her relief aloud. “What caused the fire? Do they know?”

Jake continued to pace, hands thrust into his pockets, trying to recall the conversation he'd had with Bitsy.

“Jake.”

He stopped and jerked his head toward her.

“What caused the fire?”

“Dryer vent caught on fire.” Jake approached the bed and looked around, looking at everything except the woman in the bed.

“Sit down, Jake.” Maggie repeated the words, her voice gentle and soothing.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress. Then he got up. Then he sat down again. After a moment he relaxed, head bowed, and let out a breath of air. “Don't ever do that to me again.”

It startled him when her hand touched his arm in a gentle caress of comfort. He should be comforting her.

Jake lifted his head and stared at Maggie before finally making an admission. “I want to hold you but I'm afraid I'll hurt you.”

“It's okay.” She dropped her hand to his, gripping tightly. “I'm sorry I made you worry.”

This time his slow silent inspection dared to examine her more closely, first one arm then the other, then her face and scalp. He looked deep into her eyes. What he saw there shook him to his core.