The Protector (33 page)

“Here. Warm up.”

He accepted the hot chocolate. “Thanks. This garage is like ice.” His hands were painfully cold even with the palm and half-finger gloves.

“Jack, Jennifer believes in Jesus. I think I finally understand why.” Rachel perched herself on the bag of salt he planned to spread on the walk once it was cleared of snow.

“Hold it, Rachel. You walked in, said hi, and now we’re talking about religion. Give me two seconds to shift gears.”

“It’s Christmas.”

“And frankly I’m going to be very relieved when this holiday is over.” He’d had his fill of snow, car accidents, and drunk drivers. Jack drained the hot chocolate. “Do we really have to talk about this now?”

“I went to church with Jennifer last night.”

They
were
going to be talking about it now. “Okay…” He hadn’t expected that but wasn’t totally surprised by it, not if Jennifer had asked Rachel to go along.

“What if Jennifer is right?”

It sounded like instead of talking about Jennifer’s puppy and plans for New Year’s Eve, it was going to be the subject of religion. Jack rubbed his eyes, annoyed at the grime on his hands, and tried to give Rachel his full attention, knowing he was about to be left behind in the dust with this conversation. She didn’t mean to talk over his head, but Rachel was comfortable talking in-depth about subjects like psychology and law. If she was now adding religion— He figured he could get in one statement that sounded intelligent before he got confused. “You think Jennifer might be right to believe Jesus is alive.”

“Yes.”

He picked up the wrench and considered stripping apart the carburetor. He had spent hours on this snowblower over Thanksgiving to avoid just this situation. He needed this thing to start. “Why? You’ve been the one saying for months that it didn’t make sense.”

“She’s happy.”

He was expecting a profound answer and instead she surprised him with a very simple one. “I could have told you that.” He grimaced as the wrench slipped and he scraped his knuckles against the concrete.

“She’s got cancer, her remission is officially over, and she’s going to be fighting for every day of her future. In the face of that she’s able to be happy. Even being married can’t explain that joy.”

“You’re using an emotional argument to justify why she is right.”

“Yes.”

He shook his head, confused. Rachel was logical as well as empathetic with people, able to sort out what seemed like contradictory human behavior and shape it back into some order, but there were times he simply could not follow her reasoning. He looked at her and was surprised by the almost pleading expression.

“When you’re dying, you can’t easily lie to yourself. Jennifer’s gut tells her Jesus loves her and has given her eternal life. The fact that the closer she gets to death, the stronger she believes tells me she’s right.”

Jack didn’t feel it wise to point out the contradiction in her statement. She had just said Jennifer was in denial of the fact she was dying. Rachel wanted him to agree with her, and he couldn’t do it, but neither could he discourage her. He’d missed that sound of hope in her voice. “What are you going to do?”

“Am I blowing smoke with that conclusion?”

“Sounds reasonable to me.”

“Good. Because you need to read the Bible. Jennifer wants to talk to you.”

“Rae—” he instinctively protested. He did not want to get into a discussion of religion with Jennifer. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her, and he would if they talked about that subject. She wanted him to believe too and he couldn’t yet say that he did.

“Tough. You need to wrestle it to the ground. If I do choose to believe, that leaves only you and Stephen on the wrong side of the decision.”

He glanced at her, hearing the line being drawn with a smile. “If you’re right, everyone has to agree with you.”

“About this, yes. I want company on this scary step.”

Being told by his sister to read the Bible after being told by Cassie the same thing, he was willing to concede at least the fact he couldn’t ignore making a decision any longer. “Is there a large print edition that I don’t have to squint at, written in something better than Old King’s English?” When she nodded, he sighed. “Get me a Bible for a Christmas gift, then I’ll see what I think.”

She beamed at him. “I already did. It’s the package on your kitchen counter.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“You hate to tell family no.”

“I’ll start working at it.”

She laughed. He smiled at her, then looked back at the hunk of metal that was the bane of his existence. “Do you know how to fix a snowblower?”

“I’ll kick it for you.”

“Doesn’t work.” He finally grabbed hold of it, tipped it, and shook hard. A screw tumbled to the concrete floor. “Now I wonder where that was supposed to be?” He went back to searching.

He finally leaned over and pulled the cord. The snowblower started.

“It works.” She said, surprised, smiling at him.

“Good, because you get to use it on the drive while I use the shovel on the steps.”

It was snowing. Cassie hated winter as a rule, but on Christmas Day she made an exception. The snow was building up on the kitchen windowsill. The sun was out, and the reflection off the snow was so bright she had to narrow her eyes as she looked around. Long icicles hung in neat rows along the building gutters. The world outside looked new.

She had given herself the luxury of sleeping in until ten and fixing flavored coffee. The apartment was toasty as the building heat had shifted into its too hot mode. She was wearing sweats, but she could easily be in short sleeves and be comfortable.

“Come on, Benji.” She picked up the kitten from the couch. B. J. had curled up on the new leather jacket Cole had given her for Christmas. It was gorgeous. She owed her friend a hug although he’d get embarrassed if she did it.

This was the day she had targeted as her turning point and she had woken in a good mood, was absolutely loving the day. There was no stress, no bookstore to worry about, or shift to go to. It was a day off and totally free. She hummed along with the Christmas music on the radio as she finished unpacking the gifts she brought home from the department party and set on the couch last night.

After all the painting and wallpapering was finished, she’d basically have a new apartment by the end of the week. The bookstore business through the month of December had been wonderful. She planned to catch up on paperwork tomorrow and do the final budget planning for next year. The owner of the bike shop was talking again about moving to a larger store, and that put the option of expanding the bookstore back on the table. She was excited about that possibility.

Jack should be home from his shift by now. She would call him and wish him Merry Christmas, but she was afraid she might wake him up from a much-needed couple hours of sleep. The wind had tapered off around midnight and the brunt of the storm had skirted north. She hoped Jack had an easier end to his shift.

She put Benji down on a pillow she pulled to the center of the bed. The kitten loved to play and equally loved to sleep. As a gift Jack couldn’t have found a better one.

Cassie looked around her bedroom. Everything short of the walk-in closet had now been Jack’s definition of spring cleaned. She had toyed with the idea of starting the painting on her own, but then decided for simplicity’s sake to wait for Jack.

She stepped over the vacuum cleaner and went back to work on the windows. She’d been finishing up the cleaning. When this was done, she was going to look at baking some cookies. Jack hadn’t said whom he had recruited as help, but knowing the odds, she figured planning to feed them would be a good idea. She reached to clean the top of the windowpane.

A snowball splattered against the window. Startled, she took two steps backward and then warily returned to the window to see the source. Jack stood on the curb looking up at her window, his hands on his hips. She cracked open the window and shivered at the cold.

“Can Cassie come out and play?”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Gloves, woman, and get yourself down here.”

“Hold on.” With a laugh she closed the window.

She opened her closet, got out her long blue coat, hat, and black gloves, then went to join Jack.

Jack had a girlfriend. He drank hot coffee as he watched the two of them struggle to roll a growing snowball across the hilly ground. They were having a good Christmas. At least someone was. He’d listened to a near suicide threat; the holidays doing what time had not, nearly causing another casualty in his family. Popcorn fell on the car floorboard. He shook the box to spread out the butter better. He was getting tired of it all.

The snowman grew. Acquired eyes and a nose.

Cassie tumbled back in a snowdrift and made a snow angel as Jack stood watching and laughing.

The pressure had to increase and this was the most vulnerable point. He sighed. No one had found his last message, his most elegant message. It was frustrating as he had worked hard at it. But this situation…it had possibilities.

They went in and the lights soon came on in her apartment.

He stepped out of the car to check out the snowman.

Jack stretched out on his back on the living room floor, exhausted but happy. Benji, sitting on his chest, made a tentative swipe with her front paw at the pretzel stick Jack twirled in front of her. The kitten pounced and butted his chin. Jack laughed softly because the fur tickled, and the kitten tumbled, an earthquake rumbling beneath her. Jack nudged Benji back to the center of his chest to prevent her tumbling off.

Jack rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. Just before they came in Cassie had hit him square in the face with a snowball. He had frozen feet, cold hands, and a wet shirt. And he was happy.

“Cassie, did you get lost?”

“I’m drying out.”

“Bring me another towel when you come. I’m melting all over your carpet here.”

She reappeared in the doorway, and the towel lobbed his direction caught him upside the head.

“Thanks.” She sat on the floor beside him and dropped a monogrammed towel for Benji beside the kitten. “B. J. still has a milk mustache.”

“She’s getting better at it. At least she didn’t tip the bowl this time.”

Cassie was towel drying her own hair. She’d made a snow angel and come up looking frosted afterward.

She changed into a gray short sleeve shirt. She’d never done that before with him. Jack noticed it immediately. The burns that scarred her forearms curled back around her forearms to behind her elbows. Her upper right arm muscles looked deformed by the results of the fire, contracted and withered.

A glance at her face told him she knew he had noticed. He didn’t say anything, but he did relax. She’d trusted him. That meant a lot. She was also wearing his pendant. And that meant even more.

He carefully started drying off Benji’s milk mustache.

“Thank you for her.” She reached over to stroke the kitten.

Jack caught her hand, turned it, and kissed the back of her hand where the scars marred her skin.

Startled, her hand curled. “Why did you do that?”

“To kiss it better,” he said matter-of-factly. “You hide your hands. Now you don’t have to.”

“Jack—”

He quirked an eyebrow when she struggled with words. She finally just offered a smile to him. He smiled back and turned his attention to the kitten, now trying to eat a button on his shirt pocket.

“Who do you think is going to be his next target?”

“Our firebug?”

Cassie nodded.

“So far he’s gone after the fire board, the arson group, and the fire department. It’s pretty obvious he’s trying to get us to react, so take your pick at what he strikes at next.”

“Cole thinks it’s a firefighter.”

Jack nodded. It was depressing but given the situation probably accurate. “Do you think it’s someone from the old Company 65?”

“No.”

“It’s no one in Company 81.”

“It can’t be someone we know,” Cassie agreed. She hesitated, and then added, “I’m worried about the next fire.”

He heard an undercurrent of something deeper under that general comment. “You’re worried about my getting hurt.”

She nodded.

“It’s a possibility for any firefighter.” He reached over and gently traced the scar that ran from the back of her hand across her wrist. “Would you have not gone into the nursing home had you known this would happen?”

“I would have gone in.”

“Don’t borrow trouble, Cassie. If something happens, we’ll deal with it. Until then worry is wasted emotion.”

“You’re not going to take Ben up on his suggestion that you and he change shifts, Black and Gold, and find out if it’s you or Gold Shift itself?”

Jack shook his head. “I would be leaving Nate and Bruce and the guys. I can’t do that to them if it’s Gold Shift who’s the target.”

The mood was becoming way too serious, the laughter of the afternoon replaced with a more somber mood. She’d had one Christmas wish, and he was unable to help fulfill it. “I’m sorry you are not able to spend Christmas with Ash.”