Falling for the Fireman Page 13

  Jeannie held her breath as the paper lantern began to glow like a flickering round moon. After a few seconds, Nicky gasped and said, “It’s taking off, I can feel it!” He raised it up and slowly let it slide from his fingers. Like a silent prayer, it floated up into the night sky. She felt the release deep in her chest, saw it in Nicky’s upturned face and heard it in the catch of Chad’s breath.

  It was all she could do not to break down as she lit her lantern and let it slip into the night. No christening or declarations were needed, just her hands reaching out into the darkness. She knew the moment held far more than the release of a simple lantern. Chad had given her something so deep she’d never know how to thank him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chad watched Nicky and Jeannie launch their lanterns, marveling at their faces as they did so. Amazing how something so simple could come to mean so much. Jeannie looked to him like a priceless, perfect gift, her upturned face and wet lashes watching the lantern glide from her hands.

  Now it was his turn. It felt so much harder. He’d grasped his own lantern so fiercely that he’d actually pushed in a small dent on one side. Laurie would have laughed at that. He was sure he was shaking even though his hands were still. This felt so terribly important, so difficult, and yet so perfectly natural. Nick’s ease paved the way, and Jeannie’s wonder had pushed him on. He took a second step toward the river, selfishly needing more space between him and the world as he lifted the lantern. A split second of panic shot through him as he felt the lantern pull toward the sky, and he had to command his fingers to let loose.

  When they did, he felt something slip free in his chest. Some hard shell finally cracked and fell away to let him take his first true deep breath in years. It’s safe to come home. His prayer to Heaven and, he hoped, Heaven’s message to him.

  Jeannie sniffed behind him, and he turned to see her tearful eyes hold his gaze. Nick held her hand, the boy’s own face flushed with emotion he was trying to hide. Chad held his hand out to her—to the both of them, really—and she walked forward to settle perfectly into the arc of his arm. Without a word, but with more than a few sniffles, they watched the trio of lights float farther and farther into the night sky. Thank You, Lord. It’s safe to come home.

  Plug, ever the clown, broke the mood by lunging to the edge of the water after an unsuspecting duck. “Whoa!” Nick yelled, setting off after Plug as he tried out his newly restored running skills down the riverbank.

  “Don’t go far,” Chad ordered at the same time Jeannie called “Don’t wander off!” and they both laughed. In truth, he was grateful Plug had granted him some privacy with Jeannie. He had a lot to say to her, only none of it seemed to fit into words at the moment. He wished—prayed—to be the man he was years ago, the unscarred man who could easily let someone as amazing as Jeannie into his life. All the way into his life. “You lit that easily by yourself.” The candles and lantern had done what he hoped—redeemed flame for her. It gave him the courage to hope he could heal enough to be the kind of man she really needed.

  She grinned. “I did, didn’t I?” Her smile dissolved into something more serious. “Thank you.” Her glance flicked away for a moment, as if she were gathering the courage to say something. When her gaze returned, she licked her lips, took a big breath and asked, “Did you…let her go?”

  She knew. And why wouldn’t she? Hadn’t she lost half of her own heart—her husband and the father of her son? What was it George said to him once, “Broken hearts recognize each other”? He was so deeply touched that she’d had the courage to ask, and so deeply disappointed that he didn’t have the best answer. Still, he’d never lie to her; she deserved truth. “Some.”

  She pointed over his shoulder, and he turned to watch as the lanterns began to flicker. They were ethereal yellow balls in the sky, beautiful in how they danced close together, but each coming to the end of the candle that kept them aloft. She grabbed his hand as the first one went out. They stood silently as the other two surrendered to the night sky, gone to their sight and yet still there.

  Chad turned back toward her, barely able to see her in the dim glow of the bridge light behind them. “I’m still here,” she said softly, putting a hand up to his cheek. When she kissed him, his yearning to be near her won out over his last doubts. She was warmth to his ice, light to his dark, and he was so hungry to come out of the cold that he found himself wiling to pay any price to have that moment with her. He couldn’t get near enough, couldn’t hold her tight enough or long enough. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, the back of her delicate hands, the exquisite curve of her jaw. He breathed her in like a drowning man’s last gulp of air, terrified the moment couldn’t last. Too lost in his need for her to care that it couldn’t possibly last. Sure he would open his eyes and she would disappear into the night like the lanterns and leave him in the dark.

  When he forced himself to open his eyes, when Plug’s bark yanked him back to the real world, she was still there. She looked at him with brimming eyes, her face flushed. “Some is enough,” she whispered as Nick’s shouting came closer, her breath as ragged as his own.

  “Stop fussing with my hair!” Nicky snatched the comb from Jeannie’s hands. “Go fuss over Chad if you need something to do.”

  “Nicky!”

  “Nick. Just Nick. Please, Mom, try?” Unsure how to handle Chad’s deeper role in their lives. Nicky was prickly this morning. More than once he’d made some remark at breakfast about “Chad this” or “Chad that” falling into a teasing tone a younger boy would use about male-female relationships. While serious conversation became impossible, they hadn’t fought, so Jeannie chose to view it as an improvement. He’d worn a burgundy shirt—the lightest color she’d seen on him in a while, so she ignored the ever-present dark, ripped jeans.

  She spent a pleasant and productive pair of hours finishing up some products in the church kitchen, then drove home for lunch. Chad’s truck was outside the apartment when she pulled up. He was waiting outside, a large white envelope in his hands and a serious expression on his face.

  “Did they deny my building permit?” That was the building inspector’s job—not Chad’s—but she couldn’t think what else would make him so stoic, especially after last night.

  “Nothing like that. Can I come inside for a minute? We need to talk.”

  He was having regrets. She’d let him inside her heart and he was going to pull away from her. Blind panic, an illogical abandoned feeling surged up out of nowhere. “What’s wrong?”

  He took her hand, and she nearly sighed with relief. He was still with her, he hadn’t retreated again—at least not yet. “I have something important I want to show you. Something I want you to think about.”

  “All right,” Jeannie said unsteadily as she turned the key in the door, sidetracked by gratitude that she and Nicky had cleaned up the apartment when they got home last night. Hadn’t Henry always said she cleaned when she was happy? She was happy—or at least she was until she saw the alarms going off in Chad’s eyes. She knew, even before he spoke a word, even before he settled himself with disturbing seriousness at her kitchen table, that she wouldn’t like what he had to say.

  “Nick’s a great kid,” he started, his hands spread protectively over the envelope as if to hide its contents from her view. “A really great boy, but he’s just that—a boy. A boy who’s been through way too much. I’m hung up on the kid, really. Which is…why I’m here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want him to have a great life, to have every chance to succeed.” Chad reached for her hand across the table. “Nick needs help, Jeannie. I wasn’t certain until this morning, but I’ve had people up at the school watching for certain signs.”

  “You’ve been spying on Nicky? Without my permission?”

  “Nothing like that. More like a heightened awareness for specific clues.

  “You make it sound like you were hunting for evidence. Chad, what is going on with you all of a sudden?�
��

  Chad took a deep breath, keeping a hold of her hand. “Nick’s been setting fires. Small things—garbage, sticks, nothing with any real intent to burn anything down—but it may not stay that way.” She didn’t like the authoritarian edge in his eyes.

  “It was just some matches in his locker, Chad. He’s acting out, yes, but you saw how much he’s changed, even last night. We’re almost over this.”

  “You said he went to a grief counselor when his dad died, and I know he’s seen staff up at school since the fire…”

  Jeannie felt her pulse thunder in her throat, pounding out any calm she had left “And he’s doing fine. He’s handling it. You said yourself that he’ll come through this fine. Well, close to fine. Close enough.”

  Chad closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. “I care too much about Nick to let him go without the help he needs. I’m referring Nick to JFIP, the Juvenile Firesetter Intervention Program.”

  Jeannie yanked her hand away. “He’s not some kind of criminal, Chad. You know that.”

  “Mrs. Hunnington told me his grades are far below what they were last year.”

  “He’s been though a fire, for goodness’ sake. I can barely concentrate. It hasn’t even been three months, we’re still living in boxes.”

  “He’s been argumentative at school, and I know you said he’s been more trouble at home.”

  “I think a teenage boy who’s lost everything is entitled to a bout of bad moods, don’t you?” She could feel her voice raising. He’d already done it, hadn’t he? He wasn’t here to ask her permission. “You’ve marked him for life, that’s what you’ve done.” She pointed at him, a sense of betrayal stabbing through her. “He cared about you, trusted you and you turned him in like some kind of deviant. How could you do that after last night?”

  Chad shot up off the chair. “I haven’t done anything yet, that’s why I’m here. I’m here, now, because of last night, don’t you see that? I care about him. I care about you.” He turned and planted his hands on the table, towering over her. “He’s in trouble, Jeannie. I tried to ignore the signs but they’re all there. I can’t pretend I don’t see them anymore. Boys from single-parent homes are especially vulnerable…”

  Jeannie stood up to him, fisting her hands because she wanted to hit Chad. “Don’t you dare make this about Henry.”

  “I’m not!” Chad fired back, louder than she knew he wanted to. “He’s set two small fires in back of the school. And Jeannie, listen to me. Nick didn’t put the fires out. Kids who are just curious extinguish the fires once they set them but Scott told me Nick let them burn.”

  “Scott’s lying, can’t you see that?

  “I can’t prove that but I don’t think he is. Nick’s letting all that anger tangle him up inside and I can’t stand there and watch him do something that really will mark him for the rest of his life.” He paced the kitchen, running his hands through his hair. “Do you think I want to do this? Do you think for one second that I wasn’t up all night wondering if it was the right thing to do? That I could be wrong? But worse yet, what if I’m not? He’s at risk, Jeannie. Even if you can’t see that, I have to. It’s my job.”

  “I’m his mother. It’s my job to know what’s best for him.”

  “It’s a two-day workshop. He’ll get professional help and a completely confidential evaluation by a specialist. Would you rather take the chance he’ll be arrested for arson some day? Take a life? Most kids who are like this get worse, do worse things than punch out some bully.”

  Jeannie stared at the envelope, feeling like the crisp black letters that spelled Davis County Fire Department Arson Prevention Program spelled out Nicky’s doom. “My son is not an arsonist.” Her words were as sharp and final as the letterhead.

  “No, he’s not. He’s a mixed-up kid who doesn’t know how to control the anger he feels. If he goes here—” Chad pointed to the envelope “—he’ll get better ways to cope with all that. Look, the fire affected you—you couldn’t bring yourself to light a match. Can you even allow for the possibility that the same events make him need to light one?”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Only if you won’t look at it. This is a program specifically designed for kids like him. Run by people who know especially what he’s facing. He won’t get labeled by a two-day program.”

  Jeannie pulled the envelope toward her and dumped it out. “Won’t get labeled? Do you really believe that?” She scanned the documents. “‘For offenders ten to seventeen years of age.’ Offenders. You don’t call that a label?”

  Chad’s heart was shredding in his chest. Offender was an ugly word. His job was filled with ugly words. No, Nick wasn’t an offender, but Chad’s gut told him he was on his way. Chad hated what Jeannie’s eyes did to him, hated how the betrayal cut through him, but he’d known it was coming. He’d decided sometime in the wee hours of this morning that he’d endure Jeannie’s hate if it gave Nick a chance to pull back before things got worse. The phone call to school this morning had only confirmed what his instincts, his heart already knew. “He needs this.” He hated how his surging emotions made his voice break, but he had to make her see that, even if she never forgave him for it.

  “We trusted you.” Tears filled her eyes. “He opened up to you, you said it yourself. He’s already changing, already healing. And now you’re going to turn him in?”

  “I’m not turning him in, I’m getting him help. I can’t get him there on my own. I won’t shortchange him just because this hurts.”

  “What about last night? He could have burned those lanterns somehow, but he followed your directions. You handed him the lighter, Chad.” The panic in her voice was killing him. She was trying desperately to deny it, frantic to hang on to her belief—to the lie—that everything was going to turn out fine for Nick if everyone just left him alone. “If you do this, people will think he was responsible for the house fire. Can’t you see that?”

  “No one at the department would think that.”

  “Maybe not at the department, but what about the rest of town? Once word gets out…”

  “Word won’t get out.” Now who was believing the lie? She looked at him, and he couldn’t really argue. She was right; he could do his best to draw the line between prevention and accusation, but precious few people would see it. He spent his entire job fighting the truth that prevention was essentially an invisible concept. “I’ll be right beside you, both of you.”

  She pushed the envelope at him. “Oh, we’ve seen what happens to people who get close to you. No. I’m his mother and I say no. Take this out of here before Nicky sees what you really think of him.”

  “Read it. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “No.”

  “If you read it, and you don’t recognize Nick in the descriptions, then…”

  “It’s not your decision.”

  The fact was a knife to his chest. It wasn’t his decision. Without an actual criminal offense, he wasn’t sure how far he could take things. He cared for her but couldn’t control her. He’d lost his heart to her last night and it was too late to snatch it back. Now she was going to dangle his heart over a flame of risk so high he felt it burning already. She was going to break his heart all over again; it was only a matter of “when,” not “if.” Hadn’t he known that? Hadn’t he fought against all the vulnerable places he’d opened up last night, knowing it would only end in pain like this? He could refer all he wanted to, but he was essentially powerless if she withheld her consent. She could choose to do nothing and he couldn’t stop it. Anger and panic and frustration wrapped around his throat like a noose. He couldn’t find enough air to breathe.

  “Just read it. Please.” Dear God, You’ve got to let her see this. Save Nick. I’ll swallow them hating me if You just save him.

  “I don’t know.” Her words were sharp and clipped, and he realized he was too late. The look of betrayal in her eyes had already broken his heart.

  Worse than that, it was
clear he’d just broken hers.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I hate it here.” Nicky slammed the cabinet door shut when he got home after school. Jeannie closed her eyes and counted to ten. Any gains they’d made this morning were long gone in the bad day they’d clearly both had. He’d been a ball of anger since she picked him up after school, which only turned up the tension from her argument with Chad. The apartment seemed especially tiny this afternoon, stale and claustrophobic.

  “I know things are hard right now,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and even, “but things are getting better, aren’t they? We’re getting through it the best we can.”

  “No. We’re not. School’s boring, home is gross, it all rots. I hate it here. My room smells funny and I need my other gym shoes and this bed is disgusting. It stinks, Mom. I’m sleeping on someone else’s bed.”

  “I’m trying to get us to the new place as fast as I can.” She couldn’t even make herself believe it when she said it. “There aren’t even real walls up yet above the store.”

  “Who needs walls?” Nicky moaned as he stomped toward his cramped room. It was just salt in the wound that he could barely fit himself and his backpack through the door at the same time. “Just get me outta here, Mom.” Slam. His bedroom door shut with a cheap thud.

  And Scott Collins’s buddy shoved you into a locker today, but you’re not going to tell me about that, are you? She’d suspected Nicky had kept from her the fact that episodes were still happening at school. It was getting harder to classify all this as just teenage backlash. Some things were better, but others were worse. Chad was helping Nicky cope, but too much was still going on at the school. There had been a phone message on her machine from the principal. When she returned the call to Mrs. Hunnington, she’d confirmed everything Chad said. She’d even added to things by mentioning the scuffle between Scott and Nicky. True to Chad’s promise of confidentiality, she seemed to know nothing about the JFIP program. That did little to stop the spread of the cold knot of fear in her stomach.