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“And what about the mother?” his brother pressed.
“What about her?” Matt dodged.
“Still single?”
“Yes, still single,” he replied. “And before you ask, yes, she’s pretty.”
“Aha.”
“Oh, cut it out.” Matt laughed and slowed for another corner. “She’s the widow of a firefighter from Billings, so I feel like I owe her something. It’s not romantic, I swear.”
There was a muffled voice in the background, and then his brother came back. “Gloria’s inviting you to our place for dinner,” Craig said. “Are you interested? I could pop another steak on the barbecue.”
The thought of a barbecue steak made Matt’s stomach rumble, and he chuckled. “Twist my arm, man. I’m on my way. Can I pick up anything?”
“No, we’re ready to go. Just get down here, because I’m hungry.”
“Okay, I’m ten minutes away.”
Matt hung up and smiled ruefully. He’d miss his brother and his wife, too, if he moved out of town. Craig and Gloria had him over for dinner about as often as he’d let them. He begged off more often than not, preferring to give them time to themselves, being newlyweds and all.
He eased forward again and glanced toward the squat elementary school. Brand-new play equipment sprawled on one side of the building, a green field on the other side. A sign in front of the building announced student registration days and encouraged everyone to “Find adventure in reading this summer.” The scars from the fire were cleaned away, and this September, Broxton Park Elementary would reopen for the first time since that tragic day.
He had no idea what anyone else saw when they looked at that building, but in his mind’s eye he still saw the billowing smoke pouring out of broken windows. He still heard the frightened screams of children, the wail of sirens and the desperate, clinging questions of the parents standing in shocked groups on the sidewalk.
He’d fought fires for most of his adult life, and the very thought of a blazing inferno only got his adrenaline pumping and made him twitch to jump into his boots. This school represented more than a fire, though. It represented his own personal failure and the death of a child.
Matt heaved a sigh as he passed the building and crossed another intersection. This school always affected him the same way. His stomach curdled and sweat sprang out on his palms. He knew he was a good firefighter. He knew he’d followed all the protocol possible in that fire, and he knew that he wasn’t liable or at fault, but somehow that didn’t change a thing.
Matt willed his pounding heart to quiet, and he signaled for another turn onto his brother’s street.
He’d eat steak. He’d compliment his sister-in-law’s pasta salad, and he’d jokingly rebuff all of Gloria’s attempts to set him up and get him married. It was Wednesday night, and he knew the drill.
Lord, he prayed silently, I need this job.
* * *
The next evening, the aroma of pizza drifted down Main Street, mingling with the scent of the hanging planters that hung from lampposts, dripping a lazy rhythm from a recent watering. Alphonzo’s Pizza crouched on one corner, nestled up against Duggar Jewelers. Golden sunlight bathed the street, contrasting with the long shadows. Six o’clock constituted dinnertime in Haggerston, and the streets were deserted, save for the rumble of the odd pickup truck. Almost all of the local businesses had closed up shop for the evening, with the exception of Alphonzo’s Pizza.
Inside the restaurant, Rachel and Chris sat at a table in the far corner, listening to the distant din of the kitchen. A paper menu in the center of the table showed the meal options—everything from pizza to chop suey—and Chris fiddled with the corner, a bored look on his face.
“Hi, hon,” a young waitress crooned, pulling a pad of paper from her pocket. “What can I get you to start?”
“Could we get my son a pop?” she asked. “What kind, sweetie?”
“Orange, please.”
“Sure thing.” The waitress jotted it down. “And for you?”
“Actually we’re waiting for someone, so maybe I’ll wait until he arrives.”
As if on cue, the bell above the door tinkled and Matt stepped inside, pulling off his sunglasses. He was out of uniform today, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue polo shirt that strained slightly around his biceps. He glanced around the restaurant, his steely gaze falling on them.
“Oh, here he is,” Rachel said and smiled up at Matt as he approached the table. He slid into the chair opposite Rachel, and while they ordered soft drinks and a pepperoni pizza, she found herself studying his face. A pale scar cut past one eyebrow, a detail she hadn’t noticed earlier. He seemed gentler out of uniform, more accessible, less official. His sun-bleached hair had a touch of premature gray working through the front, and as he leaned his elbows on the tabletop, the scent of aftershave lingered.
“So, how are you liking Haggerston?” Matt asked after the waitress left the table.
“I’ve always loved this town,” she said. “I wanted to move here years ago.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“My husband was with the Billings Fire Department, and he was happy there. He was climbing.” She shrugged. “What can you do?”
He nodded. “It’s hard to move on once your life is rooted somewhere else. I get that.”
“This is the perfect tiny town. The flowers on the street corners, the shops where everyone knows each other—”
“You like the idea of everyone knowing you?” he asked with a wry smile.
“Maybe?” She laughed softly. “In some ways it’s comforting, but I’m sure there is a flip side to the coin. What about you? How long have you lived here?”
“I grew up here, so if I’m not related to someone, I probably know them somehow.” He grinned. “Our waitress babysits my cousin’s kids.”
“Seriously?” Rachel looked back at the young woman taking another table’s order. “It’s a small world.”
“It’s a small town,” he corrected with a low laugh.
“Did you know my mom, Mr. Bailey?” Chris locked his gaze on the firefighter’s face, all the intensity of his seven years focused on the man across the table from him, and Rachel shifted uncomfortably. She knew that her son had questions, and it looked as though he was ready to ask a few of them.
“I just met her the other day, with you,” Matt replied, his gaze flickering toward Rachel.
“No, I mean my other mom,” he pressed. “The one who left me at the firehouse. Did you know her?”
Rachel’s stomach dropped. He’d been asking about his birth mother lately, and she somehow hoped that he would never need to know more about the woman than she’d already told him and that she could be enough. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t have the answers, either. All she wanted right now was to be able to fill in the gaps for him, to help soothe his unease and confusion.
“Uh...” Matt looked up at Rachel uncertainly, then back to the boy’s earnest gaze. “I never did find out who she was, buddy. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Chris shrugged. “I just wondered.”
“You have a really good mom right here,” Matt said. “She loves you a whole lot.”
“Yeah, I love her, too.” Chris leaned back in his chair, but his eyes were still clouded.
The food arrived. A large pepperoni pizza oozing melted cheese and still sizzling from the oven was deposited in the center of the table. After everyone was served and Chris took a big bite of pizza, Rachel sucked in a deep breath.
“I know that Chris wants to hear about how he was found,” she said. Chris’s attention snapped up.
“Sure.” Matt cleared his throat. “Do you know anything about that night, Chris?”
“A little bit,” the boy replied past a cheek full of food.
“I was working the night shift, and I was watching a training video. Someone buzzed downstairs—a woman—asking me to come down. I didn’t know what to expect, so I went on down.”
“Was that my mom?” Chris asked after swallowing.
Every time Chris referred to his birth mother as “his mom,” it stung just a little. Rachel had imagined these conversations countless times over the years, but she’d never fully appreciated how difficult it was for a mother to share her child. She should have been discussing this with him long ago, and if she hadn’t been so crushed by Ed’s death, she would have.
“I’m assuming so,” Matt said with a nod. “When I got down there, she was gone, and you were there. In a box.”
“Was I small?”
“You were pretty tiny, buddy.”
“Did I cry?”
“A little bit. You were hungry.”
“So you fed me?”
“We had some bottles and formula on hand in case of emergency, and I guess you counted as an emergency. So I sat in a big armchair, and I fed you your bottle. You slurped that thing back like nobody’s business, and then you settled in for a nice nap.”
“How long did you hold him for?” Rachel asked softly.
“It took about three hours for Social Services to arrive. So I just sat there and held him. He was cold.” He glanced at Rachel uneasily, and she suspected there was more to the story, details he couldn’t share in front of Chris.
“What’s that services thing?” Chris asked.
“Social Services take care of people when they need help. They came to get you, and they found you a good home where you would be safe and loved. That’s how your mom and dad got you.”
“We got a call that night.” Rachel continued the story. “They said a baby needed a safe home, and they asked if we’d take care of you. We drove down and picked you up, and I knew the moment I saw you that I’d never let you go.”
“But what about my mom?” Chris asked, and Rachel pushed back the sting.
“I don’t know, Chris,” she said quietly. “Your birth mother left you at the fire station, and no one ever found out who she was. But I know that she wanted you to be safe. She brought you to the one place she could be sure that someone would take care of you.”
Chris put his attention back into his pizza, and when Rachel glanced back in Matt’s direction, she found his warm gaze enveloping her. He reached across the table and took her hand in his broad, warm grasp, giving her a squeeze. He released her fingers almost as quickly as he’d taken them, but she was grateful for the gesture.
“Chris, I saw some video games over there in the corner,” Matt said. He leaned back in his seat and fished around in his pocket, his hand emerging with a fistful of quarters. “Do you want to try them?”
“Can I, Mom?” Chris turned bright, exuberant eyes onto Rachel, the previous heaviness apparently forgotten.
She smiled and nodded. “Sure, sweetie. Have fun.”
Chris accepted the quarters into his cupped palms and headed off toward the video games. They looked almost antique—Pac-Man, some racing games and a claw that dipped into a vat of dusty plush toys. He looked so grown up, standing there with his quarters, and yet so small, all at once.
This move to Haggerston was supposed to give Chris the stability he craved, yet even here, she felt his struggle. He couldn’t put words to it—he was too young to even try. She knew what was in his heart, though.
Who did he belong to?
And her heart replied with every beat, You belong to me.
* * *
Matt leaned his elbows on the table and stabbed at some ice cubes in his glass with a straw. Rachel looked toward her son, and when her gaze flickered back in his direction, color rose in her cheeks. She was gorgeous—and every time emotion sparkled in those dark eyes, he found his thoughts sliding into dangerous territory.
“He’s growing up so fast,” she said.
Matt nodded. “I can only imagine.”
“He’s been asking about his birth mother a lot lately.” She breathed a sigh. “This isn’t easy.”
“She did what was best for him,” he said. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Chris, but he was in rough shape when I found him. He was in a wet cardboard box. His sleeper was soaked, his diaper was dirty and his bottle was rancid. He shivered in my arms for a full hour, and he drank bottle after bottle. I doubt he was getting enough milk before he was dropped off at the firehouse. He was so desperate for human touch that once he figured I’d protect him, he wouldn’t let anyone else touch him.”
She froze at those words, and he immediately regretted them. “I’m sorry. That was probably too blunt.”
“No, no...” She shook her head, blinking back the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I was told about his condition by the authorities, but hearing it from you—” She swallowed, not finishing the thought.
Idiot, he chastised himself. She didn’t need to hear it like that.
“She brought him to the right place,” he said, his voice low. “And he went to the right home.”
Her dark gaze met his, and he was struck by those liquid eyes. Long lashes brushed her cheekbones with each blink, and a soft pink tinged her cheeks. She gave a weak shrug.
“I’d do anything for him. He’s really struggling.”
“You’re a good mom,” he replied. “He’ll be okay.”
She nodded and sucked in a deep breath. “I think Haggerston is just what Chris needs. I keep saying that, but I really do believe it. Sometimes a fresh start is just the ticket.”
Her words struck on the deepest longing inside him, too. She wanted to start over here in Haggerston, and he wanted to start over as far from this town as he could get, but they both wanted the same thing. They wanted to leave behind the old barbs and wounds and start over again—get another kick at the can without the pain that weighed them down. Was it even possible? He sure hoped so, because it was his last hope.
“Couldn’t agree more.” He reached for another slice of pizza.
“I was wondering about something.” She paused, a frown creasing her brow. “When they hired me at Broxton Park Elementary, they mentioned that it had a fire a few years ago.”
Matt nodded. “A big one.”
“That’s scary. Were you there for it?”
“Yeah.” There for it was an understatement. He returned to that dreadful morning in his dreams, where he endlessly searched with his gloved hands, through the murky darkness. He pushed back the memories.
“That had to be terrifying for everyone. How do you do that?” Her thoughtful gaze moved over his face.
“It’s my job.”
“I know, but...” She paused, her intent eyes fixed on him. “Aren’t you scared in situations like that?”
“I’m well trained.” The training was intense. A firefighter learned to react before he felt, to obey an order and question it later. Like in the military, a quick response to command was the secret to success, and for a firefighter, success meant getting everyone out alive.
