White-Hot Christmas (19 page)

Merle sipped her tea, although she had to force herself to swallow. Her relief was so strong she felt faint.

Julia looked over at Merle. “Would you go to the station and meet him?”

Merle stared at her. “Me?” She gave a wry laugh. “I’m the last person he’d want to see. You should go, or Jake.”

Julia shook her head. “I know he’d want to see you. He should have someone with him tonight.”

“We said goodbye this morning. He’s not going to want to see me again, especially tonight. He’ll be exhausted, he’ll want to get home and sleep.”

“I know my son better than he knows himself at times. He’ll want to see you.”

Merle looked from her to Bree and Jake, open mouthed. She was desperate to see him, to make sure he was all right, but how could she put herself through it all again after saying goodbye that morning? “I’m sorry… I can’t…”

“Please?”

Merle bit her lip. Bree reached out and touched her hand. “Why don’t you go, Merle? Jake will run you down. Be there for him as a friend. Look after him, make sure he has something to eat, give him a drink, put him to bed. Then you can give us a ring and we’ll pick you up. But I think Julia’s right. He would love to see you.”

Merle wasn’t so sure. But Julia’s face was so pleading in the end she said, “Okay, I’ll go.”

“Thank you.” Julia gave her a hug. “I’ll ring in the morning. Let me know if there’s anything he needs before then.”

Merle nodded. She went into the bedroom and quickly shoved a couple of things in her bag. She wasn’t sure if Neon would want to see her. She was certain he’d been as relieved as she had when they’d finally parted. Now they would only have to go through it all again. If he even asked her to go home with him, which she doubted would happen.

Her heart thudded at the thought of seeing him. She took her bag into the living room and said goodbye to Julia and Bree, promising to ring them if she had any news. Julia wrote her mobile and home numbers on a scrap of paper, and Merle put them in her bag. Jake was waiting with his car keys, so they went out and got in the car and waved goodbye to Bree and Julia before heading down the road.

It was still light, the rain finally easing a little, the channels at the side of the road heavy with rushing water.

“You okay?” Jake asked.

Merle nodded. She was so nervous her mouth had gone dry. “Will you stay till he turns up, in case he doesn’t want to see me?”

Jake laughed. “Sure. But it’s not going to happen.”

“Everyone’s so sure,” Merle murmured. “Except me.”

Jake pulled up in the public car park by the fire station. Two engines were already back. Firefighters were climbing down, their faces tired and dirty. Merle and Jake walked up to the entrance. She paused there, her heart hammering, searching for Neon’s face. Had he returned yet?

Then she saw him talking to another firefighter at the other side of the entrance. He’d taken off his helmet, which was under his arm, but was still wearing his uniform. At any other time, Merle would have fainted from lust. He looked huge in the sandy-coloured coveralls with yellow reflective banding, the collar standing up around his neck, black gloves in his hand. Now, however, she saw the sooty streaks across his uniform, the black marks and scratches on his tired face. His hair was ruffled and sticking up, and her heart went out to him. She took a step forward and stopped, unsure whether he would want to see her.

The man he was talking to glanced over and saw her staring at him. He smiled, nudged Neon and nodded toward her. Neon turned and looked over, his gaze settling on her. For a moment, he just stared. She tried to smile but couldn’t, she was completely frozen on the spot.
Please don’t let him turn away
. If he did, she would walk right out and get back in Jake’s car.

Not taking his eyes from her, Neon shoved his gloves and helmet into the hands of the firefighter he’d been talking to and crossed the short distance between them. Without saying a word, he walked straight up to her and enfolded her tightly in his arms.

Merle put her arms around his waist, conscious of the soot and the acrid smell of smoke but not caring a bit, pressing herself up to him. His arms were so tight, she thought he might crack a rib, but she didn’t say anything, so glad he hadn’t turned away. He didn’t kiss her, didn’t say anything, just stood there inhaling her hair, absorbing her presence.

Eventually one of the other firefighters whistled, and Neon pulled back, casting a wry glance over his shoulder before looking at her. Jake gave him a slap on the shoulder. “Good to see you’re okay. Can I leave her with you?”

She looked up at Neon, seeing for the first time the cuts and bruises on his face and the blood on his neck. Was it his? He was frowning. Was he wondering how to say no? He cleared his throat. “I need to write my report. It might take a while.”

The firefighter he’d been talking to, whom Merle now recognised as the chief fire officer who’d been interviewed on the TV, now came up to them. “Not now, son. Go home. Do it in the morning.”

Sighing, Neon nodded, and Jake kissed her on the cheek. “Call me if you want picking up at all.” After retrieving her bag, he walked off, leaving them alone.

Neon studied her. She hadn’t seen him look this tired before. He was usually brimming with energy. He indicated his uniform. “I need to get out of this. Do you mind waiting?”

“Of course not.” She watched him walk off into the station.

“You must be Merle.” She turned to see John Wright smiling at her. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Good things, I hope.” She smiled. “I saw you on the news. That was a great job you did today.”

“Oh, I didn’t do anything. It’s the guys who get in the thick of it who are the real heroes.”

“I thought the SSOs were supposed to be a supervisory role,” she said wryly, looking after Neon.

He laughed. “There’ll be snow in Kerikeri before I manage to keep him out of the action. That’s a good man you’ve got there, love. Hang on to him.”

She smiled but didn’t say anything. She knew Neon was a good man. But he wasn’t hers to hang on to.

He came walking out of the station, dressed in the shirt and jeans he’d put on that morning, carrying his car keys. He shook Wright’s hand before he left. “Good job today.”

Wright smiled at him. “Nice work, Carter. If I hear anything about the boy, I’ll give you a call.”

“Sure.”

They walked back to his car, in the Fire Emergency Services parking beside the station. “Do you want me to drive?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She took the keys, opened the door and slid into the car. It was an automatic, and she had no problem working out the controls. He got in and clipped himself in tiredly, then leaned back, his head on the rest. She reversed out and drove carefully to his house.

They didn’t speak on the way. Merle felt surprisingly calm. Her nerves had dissipated the moment he took her in his arms. Nothing had changed—she was still flying out in two days, their situation was the same. But he’d been pleased to see her there. This was a day out of days, like the eye of a tornado, a moment they’d been able to snatch, and she wasn’t there for anything except to make sure he was all right. She loved him, and she was pretty sure he loved her, although they couldn’t put it into words.

She pulled up outside his house and walked around to his side of the car, took his hand and led him indoors. She dropped her bag on the sofa and closed the curtains. Then she came back over to him. He stood there, hands on hips, staring at the floor. He looked so tired and so completely, utterly sad, she wanted to cry.

“Come on.” She took his hand again and led him into the bedroom and through to the bathroom. “You’re going to have a hot shower and a sandwich and a glass of whisky, or two, and then you’re going to bed.”

He followed her like a child and stood there while she turned on the spray. She bullied him out of his clothes, frowning as she saw the blood down the side of his face and on his neck. “Are you hurt badly?”

“It’s only a scratch.”

She knew better than to say he needed to see a doctor. She tested the water, making sure it was hot, and pushed him inside. “I’ll make you a sandwich. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Okay.” He stood under the hot shower, both hands on the tiles in front of him, letting the water run over his head.

She went out and immediately phoned Julia from the number in her bag. “It’s only Merle,” she said when his mum answered. “I wanted to let you know he’s okay. Tired and a bit bruised and battered, but he’s in one piece.”

“Thank you, darling. Are you staying the night?”

“I…don’t know yet. Maybe. I’ll see what he wants. I’m going to make him a sandwich.”

Julia laughed. Then she said, “But he was pleased to see you?”

Merle smiled. “Yes, you were right.”

“Look after him, Merle.”

“I will. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

Merle hung up and went into the kitchen. She made him a sandwich, filled a glass with milk to go with it and took it into the bedroom. Going back into the kitchen, she found the bottle of whisky and poured a generous measure into a whisky glass, throwing in a couple of ice cubes for good measure. She took that into the bedroom too, left it on the bedside table, and went into the bathroom.

The room was full of steam. He was still in the same pose, hands on the tiles, head under the shower, grey soot and blood mixing in the water by his feet, and she realised he hadn’t moved at all. He turned his head slightly and she saw him register her presence, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

She studied him for a moment, seeing the black streaks on his face and hands, the blood on his neck. She caught the bottom of her T-shirt, lifting it over her head, then took off her skirt. She walked up to the shower cabinet, opened the door and stepped in.

He moved his head but didn’t look at her. “Merle…”

“Ssh.” She got the sponge and squeezed some shower gel on it. “I’m here as a friend, Neon. I’m not going anywhere. Deal with it.”

He gave a wry laugh but didn’t say anything. She lathered up the sponge and started washing him, and he sighed, letting her, wincing occasionally as she touched a tender spot. As she gradually cleared the soot off, she realised how hurt he was. Something had fallen across his ribs, leaving bruises already starting to go purple, and his shoulders were red with scrapes and gashes.

“What happened here?” She sponged them gently.

“There was a plate of metal in the way. I was lying on my front and I couldn’t turn around, otherwise I’d have kicked it in. I had to shoulder it down.”

She touched the red marks, frowning. “You should have waited for some help.”

“There wasn’t time, or space. I was the only thing between them and that fire.”

She squeezed out the sponge, put more gel on, lathered it up and started on the other side. “You did well today, Neon. You saved the lives of all those people stuck in that bus.”

He moved his foot around on the floor, washing the blood into the plughole. “The boy’s still unconscious.”

“But he’s alive. He wouldn’t be, if it wasn’t for you.”

He didn’t say anything. She continued to wash him down, cleaning his face and finally his neck, realising the blood was coming from a gash below his chin. “You should have stitches in that.”

“I’ll get a bandage.”

She didn’t say anything. Turning off the shower, she stepped out and got some fresh towels. She rolled up a wad of toilet paper and pressed it against his neck, getting him to hold it there, then dried him quickly. He watched her, amused now, but didn’t say anything. Eventually she gave him the towel. “Wait there. I’ll find something to put on that wound.”

“There’s a first-aid box under the sink.”

“Okay.” She went out, still wet herself, and searched in the box, finding a large wound dressing and some antiseptic wipes, and bringing them back. He’d slipped on a thin towelling robe and was peeling off the tissue, looking in the mirror. “Here.” She cleaned the wound and smoothed on the dressing.

“Thanks.”

“Go and get in bed. And eat that sandwich.”

“Yes, Mum.”

She smiled, watching him go out, and quickly dried herself. Coming out, she rummaged in his wardrobe. “Can I put one of your T-shirts on? I left my robe at Bree’s.”

“Sure.”

She pulled out an All Blacks tee and yanked it on, smiling as it dropped to her mid-thigh and elbows, then climbed onto the bed where he was half-sitting, half-lying against the pillows. She’d wondered if he’d say he was too tired to eat, but he’d already nearly finished the sandwich and now polished it off, licking his fingers. He pointed to her top. “Suits you.”

She smiled, sitting beside him cross-legged, watching as he drank the whole glass of milk in one go. “Better?”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the pillows. “Yes, thanks.”

“Good.”

He took the glass of whisky and drank a large mouthful, then put his head back again. “I haven’t eaten anything since lunch. Didn’t realise how hungry I was.”

“Do you want me to cook you a meal?”

He smiled and turned his head to look at her. “No, thanks, that was just right.”

They studied each other for a moment. His beautiful brown eyes were dark with exhaustion. Eventually she said, “I rang your mum, by the way, to let her know you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

“No worries.”

He smiled, then sipped his whisky. He held out his hand and she slipped hers into it, and he linked their fingers. He still looked incredibly sad.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looked at their hands, studied her fingers for a while. Finally, taking her completely by surprise, he said, “Do you want kids, Merle?”

She couldn’t think what to say. She wanted to tell him,
Only with you
. But she knew she couldn’t. Getting pregnant with his baby, giving birth to his children… That honour was going to go to another woman. It made her want to cry. Eventually she said, “Maybe. Do you?”

She expected him to give a vehement
No
, to say after today he never wanted to see another child again, but for a while he didn’t say anything. He studied her hands, although she had a feeling he was seeing something else in his mind’s eye.