Was David inside, overcome by smoke? Smoke killed in minutes, he knew. Marcus’s body went electric. Not again. He would not lose someone else he cared for.
That meant breaking down the door. He slammed his shoulder against the wood, but it was too solid. “David!… Fire!” he shouted. Every second he wasted, the flames consumed more of the oxygen David would need to survive.
He needed a prying tool. Shouting “Fire” and banging doors as he ran, he raced down the stairs, across the terrace to the utility shed, where he grabbed a crowbar and headed back.
Bogie met him at the bottom of the stairs. “What is it?”
“A fire in David’s room. Call 9-1-1. Wake everybody. Get Carl up here to help me with the door.”
Upstairs, Lady was still barking and scratching, but she backed away when he jammed the crowbar between the door and the jamb at the level of the knob. He threw his weight against the far end of the bar. Once, twice, but no good. He brushed sweat from his eyes, threw all he had against the metal rod, his skin tearing from the force of the blow. The door popped open, wood splintering, and smoke and heat exploded out.
Coughing, his eyes running, Marcus covered his mouth with his shirt, held his breath and pushed into the room. His skin tightened in the heat, but he moved forward, praying he wouldn’t find David’s body sprawled lifeless on the floor or in his bed.
The fire crackled at the back wall, yellow-white through the smoke. He felt as though his eyeballs were boiling in his skull.
He banged into a chair, shifted to the left, feeling his way toward the bed. When his shin hit the frame, he patted the mattress, praying the bed was empty.
It was. Thank God. David wasn’t in the room. He rushed out to haul blessed air into his lungs.
Tears streamed down his cheeks and he was coughing hard, but he had to make sure everyone was outside and safe. Carl met him on the terrace carrying a fire extinguisher. “Mitch and Louis are bringing the water sprayer. A hundred gallons.”
“It’s a start. Do what you can with that.” He nodded at the extinguisher. “We’ll start a bucket brigade.”
The fire crew would be volunteers and would likely take some time to get here.
Downstairs, he called to the milling residents, “Help me grab buckets,” then led the way to the greenhouse. At the entrance, he found Christine. “What happened?” she asked. It was surreal to think that only a couple of hours ago, they’d been in bed together. Since then all hell had broken loose.
He took her by the shoulder. “David’s not hurt, okay? There was a fire in his room, but he wasn’t in it.”
“He what? There’s a fire? How did—” Her eyes were wide. “Where is he then?”
“I don’t know. Right now we’ve got to put out the fire. Come and help.”
She nodded, instantly focused on what had to be done, and hurried after him into the greenhouse.
“He was so upset. Where would he go? Do you think he would run away? Try to go to Phoenix for Brigitte?”
“How would he manage that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the twins came back for him.” She felt sick thinking about it.
The whine of a siren made everyone pause to listen, then cheer with relief.
“We’ve contained the fire at least,” Marcus said, looking over the billowing smoke. “Hopefully, the damage isn’t too extensive.”
“What caused it? Surely not David, do you think?” The idea horrified her. “He’s not destructive.” She gulped, remembering the bump on his head and his beat-up fists. Surely he hadn’t done something as awful as start a fire.
“Marcus, I’ve got to find him,” she said, handing him the next bucket. “I’m sorry.” Without waiting for his response, she ran back to the house for her car keys.
When she returned to the yard, two fire trucks were pulling up, followed by a pickup bearing a
New Mirage Fire Department
insignia. The truck parked and David got out of the passenger side. Thank God he was safe. Relief flooded her.
“David!” She ran over. She wanted to hug him, but first she needed some answers. “Where were you?”
“Trying to get himself killed.” The driver of the truck, a woman in fire gear, glared at David. “You his mother? Because this young man needs a serious talking to. He was backing onto the road from the shoulder with no lights. I nearly T-boned him into next week. Real, real stupid.” She shook her head, then loped off to join the fire crew.
“You were
driving?
” Christine demanded. “How could you drive?”
“Mitch showed me. I swerved to miss a deer and slid down the shoulder,” he said, pale and shaken, no longer sounding drunk. “I couldn’t get back on the road. I kept trying.”
“With no lights on? You could have been killed. What were you thinking? Where the hell were you going?” She tried to keep hysteria out of her voice.
“I had to get home,” he mumbled.
“To Phoenix? You took a truck in the middle of the night. What is wrong with you?”
He hung his head.
“The fire started in your room, you know.”
“My room?” He looked in that direction. Two fire hoses played over the far end of the second floor.
“Do you know how that could have happened?” she asked, praying he hadn’t done the unthinkable, holding the memory of the sweet helpful boy he used to be in her heart while she waited for his answer.
“No. I mean I didn’t start it. I just…left….” His eyes went even wider. “Oh. It might be—” He grimaced. “I might have left candles burning in the window.”
“Near the curtain?”
“Sort of. I…forgot…. I was…freaked out.” He looked angry now. “It was an accident. People light candles. So what?”
She grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him. “Listen to me. You could have killed people. Marcus. Carl. Mitch and Louis. The whole house could have gone up in flames due to your carelessness.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” He looked suddenly bereft, bony shoulders slumped, hair hanging down. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean…what happened.” His voice wobbled and he started to cry.
“I know you didn’t,” she said, feeling his pain, her anger fading. He hadn’t set the fire. He’d only caused it. As if that weren’t horrible enough.
“Let’s go see how they’re making out,” she said. Together the headed to the residents watching the fire crew work. As they approached, Lady noticed and ran to David, jumping up to put her paws on David’s chest. David dropped to his knees to hug the dog.
“Everything okay?” Marcus asked. “David?”
He glanced up at Marcus, then back at the dog.
“David was driving to Phoenix when he swerved off the road and got stuck. One of the firefighters almost hit him in the dark. He left candles burning in his room. That’s what caused the fire.”
“I see.” Marcus looked down at David.
“I don’t know for sure,” David mumbled, keeping his gaze on Lady.
“Marcus risked his life breaking into your room to save you. He thought you were inside. He could have
died,
David.”
“You did?” David looked up, horrified.
“Lady noticed the smoke and woke me up with her barking. She was scratching and whining at your door.”
“She was? Oh.” He blinked, and pressed his face into the dog’s side. “Thank you, girl,” he said.
“And what about thanking Marcus?” Christine demanded, her voice shrill. “And apologizing for what you did? His room is burned, too. What about that?”
“Thank you.” David stood, unable to meet Marcus’s eyes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…what happened.” He spun away and ran toward the cottonwoods.
“David!” she yelled, tears in her voice.
“Let him go.” Marcus took her arm.
“He has to face what he did,” she said.
“Take a moment to breathe, Christine,” he said in a low voice that caught her attention, settled her panic a little.
“You could have been killed,” she said. “We all could have.” She could barely speak around the lump in her throat.
“But I wasn’t. No one got hurt and only a few rooms were damaged. Don’t make this worse than it is.”
“What about your book, all your research?” As if risking his life weren’t enough, he might have lost all he’d worked for.
He patted his jeans pocket. “I’ve got a backup thumb drive on my keychain, which, luckily was still in my jeans. As for the research, we’ll have to see. No one was hurt. That’s what matters.”
“How can you be so calm?” Then she had a horrible thought. “You had to break down the door…like with Nathan— David might have been— Oh, I’m so sorry, Marcus. So sorry and so grateful.” She felt tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away.
“I’m glad I was there,” he said, but she saw the flash of pain in his face. He’d paid a price for his heroism. “Come here.” He pulled her into his arms, his bare chest smelling of smoke and clean sweat and she accepted a brief moment of comfort before pulling away. She had to stand on her own feet, no matter how weak and shaky she felt.
“I have to handle David right,” she said, but her brain seemed to freeze. She didn’t have one clear thought, only a rush of bad feelings—regret, fear, failure. “I don’t know what to say to him. Do I lecture him? Try to make him feel worse? Punish him? How?”
“You’ll know what to do and what to say. You love David. You know him very well. Trust your instincts.”
“My instincts? You mean the ones that told me David had improved, when he was really plotting a tryst with the girl who messed him up in the first place?”
“You might have been excessively optimistic for a moment, but your gut feelings are solid. David’s struggling with intense emotions right now. Give him a chance to sort them out. Give yourself a chance, too. You’ll know what to say and do.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I have faith in you both.” Marcus stood so broad and strong, silhouetted against the darker sky, she almost believed him. Standing with him, she felt protected, taken care of, safe.
That was different for her. Christine took care of herself, her son and her world and always had. This felt good, but also risky.
After the fire crew hacked into the walls of the three rooms damaged by the fire to be sure they’d missed no embers, they permitted everyone to return to the unharmed portions of Harmony House.
Christine gathered bedding for Marcus and David, the only residents who’d lost rooms. David helped her shift furniture out of the way in the spare room next to hers, where he would stay. Marcus took an empty room on the far end of the second floor.
Once the bed was made, David sat on it, his head in his hands. He looked so bereft, surrounded by stacks of chairs, boxes, old lamps and battered tables.
“You got what you need?” Aurora’s gruff voice came from the doorway. “Don’t be lighting any matches in here, David,” she said, nodding at the tower of cardboard boxes beside him, clearly trying to make a joke. It fell flat.
“I’m so sorry, Grandma,” he said, gulping air.
“What did I tell you about calling me that?”
“Whatever. I’m just…sorry.”
“Accidents happen,” she said. “Get some sleep and we’ll sort it all out tomorrow.”
He nodded miserably.
Christine followed Aurora out into the family kitchen. “I don’t suppose Harmony House has fire insurance?”
Her mother laughed. “What do you think?”
“Worth asking, I guess. I’ll pay to rebuild the damaged rooms. We’ll get a couple of estimates.”
“No need.”
“Of course there’s need. We’re taking full responsibility.” It would take a serious bite out of her savings, but it had to be done. “I am very sorry David did this. I know this is the last thing you need right now.”
“The place is old. Fires start. Forget the estimates and keep your cash. We’ll fix it, or we won’t. And forget the blame. Blame means guilt and guilt is pointless.”
“But we are to blame. David was so drunk he left candles burning near a curtain. If it hadn’t been for Lady and Marcus, Harmony House might have burned to the ground. And I’m to blame for allowing him too much freedom—that room off by himself for one thing—and, for…I don’t know, thinking he was doing better. We’re taking responsibility and we’re paying for the repairs. Period.”
“Things happen for a reason, Christine.”
“What? David was
supposed
to nearly kill us all?”
“No one died. Don’t blow this out of proportion.”
“Excuse me? David ran off the road and was nearly hit by a fire truck. He was on his way to Phoenix, barely able to drive, no permit and drunk.”
“I told him not to do that.”
“Excuse me? You told him not to do what?”
“I…oh, hell. I caught him trying to practice driving. And I told him not to drive because you didn’t want him to. He was the one who hit the tree.”
“David crashed the truck? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t see the point. And he learned his lesson.”
Christine remembered something else. “David said you told him to sneak Brigitte here. Is that true?”
“I told him to talk to you about a visit.”
“Why didn’t you say something to me?”
“He didn’t want me to.”
“So what? You’re the adult. After all the trouble he’s been in, you didn’t think I should know this?”
“It was up to him,” Aurora said stubbornly.
“So, if he’d taken off for Phoenix tonight, that would be okay with you?”
“It’s his life, Christine,” she said, jutting out her jaw, defensive now.
“That is so typical of you.
If you love something let it go,
right? That’s just an excuse to not do the hard parts of parenting. I will not abandon my son to the fates or the universe or whoever you think runs the show.” Christine was furious.
“That’s what you think I did? Abandon you?”
“That’s sure as hell how it felt.” The words were out before she could stop herself. She was so tired and scared and worried. “I waited for an hour at the bus station, thinking you’d come get me, but you didn’t. You let me go. I will never do that to David. I will always reach out to him.”
“If you want to blame me for every zit and hitch in your life, Christina Marie, you go right ahead, but whatever I did or didn’t do, you turned out pretty damn good if you ask me.” Her mother’s eyes flashed at her.
Christina Marie.
Her mother hadn’t called her that since she’d changed her name to Crystal.
Christine’s anger dissolved. What was she doing? Instead of apologizing to her mother about the fire, she’d picked a pointless fight. “I’m sorry I said that. I’m upset.”
“Well, don’t be. The fire doesn’t change life around here and it’s not the end of the world. And as for David, the kid’s not perfect, but then neither are you. Nothing is. You keep forgetting that.” With that Aurora turned and headed down the hall.
Christine leaned against the sink to catch her breath—something she should have done before losing it with Aurora. Christine closed her eyes. She was exhausted and shaky scared. Maybe Marcus had faith in her, but she didn’t deserve it.
Heading to her room to try for sleep, she looked in on David. He lay on his back, one arm slung over his eyes, the way he had as a little boy. For a moment, she saw him as he’d been—sensitive and eager, helpful and loving. How had the boy who was now so big his feet nearly hung off the bed ever been tiny enough to fit inside her body?
What if he’d been in that room with the fire? What if he’d wrecked on the road? Icy terror washed through her. Looking at him, she swore it again:
I will not lose you.
As if he’d heard her thought, he sighed and dropped his arm. He was awake. What should she say to him?
Trust your instincts,
Marcus had said. For now that would have to do.
She went to sit on the side of the bed. “You okay?” She brushed the hair out of his eyes, startled anew by the ugly bump on his forehead.