Licensed To Marry. Charlotte Douglas

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СКАЧАТЬ gas main, perhaps?—had trapped them in the short access corridor to the ladies’ room. The framing of that alcove must have protected them from falling beams and debris, but their approach to the main hall was blocked. There was a hole large enough to lift the children through, but she had no idea what pitfalls lay on the other side. She didn’t dare send them out alone, and she feared the whole structure might tumble if she tried to clear her way out.

      She could still smell smoke, but she could also hear the sirens of the fire engines, the distant shouts of firefighters, and the splash of water from their hoses. If Miss Walker and the rest of her class had escaped the building, the teacher would have alerted the authorities that Laura and the children were still trapped inside.

      The only thing to do was wait.

      And keep the children calm.

      Jeremy lay still in her arms, but his pulse was steady and his breathing even. Jennifer and Tiffany sniffled on either side of her, and her hearts went out to the terrified little girls. She’d be crying herself, but she had to keep up a brave front for the children.

      “Miss Walker knows we’re in here,” she reassured the girls, “and she’ll have the firefighters looking for us. We’ll have to make some noise to lead them to us.”

      Tiffany wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I can scream real loud.”

      “Screaming isn’t a good idea,” Laura suggested with more calm than she felt. “We don’t want to frighten anyone.” Or get you more worked up than you already are. “How about a song we could all sing?”

      Jennifer gazed up at her through soot-rimmed eyes. “I know ‘This Old Man.’”

      “Me, too,” Tiffany said.

      “Good,” Laura said.

      In the far distance, blending with the noises of sirens, she could hear people moving through the ruins, shouting to one another. “If we sing real loud, the firefighters will hear us and come find us. Ready?”

      Their voices were raspy and thin as they began to sing, and little Jeremy lay entirely too quietly in her arms. But as the singing cleared the dust from their throats, their song grew louder and more steady. They continued gamely, verse after verse.

      “‘This Old Man, he played eight—’”

      “Hello! Where are you?”

      Laura and the girls broke off midphrase at the call. The voice that hailed them was rich and deep and coming from where the main hall had been before the blast.

      “We’re in here,” Laura called.

      She heard the sounds of debris shifting and someone approaching. A beam of light shone through the small opening that led to the main hall.

      Laura blinked in the glare and felt Tiffany and Jennifer cling tighter to her.

      The light beam withdrew, and another light, more powerful and widespread than the flashlight, filled the crevice. A big man with wide shoulders thrust his head through the small opening.

      Laura caught her breath. He looked like an avenging angel with a hard hat for a halo. Even with smoke and dust smearing his face, she could discern the strong lines of his jaw, the classic slope of his nose and the intense green eyes that glowed with compassion and concern. His expression radiated kindness and a virile gentleness, and she realized with a jolt that there was resolution and incredible strength there as well. His smile melted the icy knot of fear in her stomach and hope surged in its place.

      “Don’t worry,” he said casually, as if they’d met in an elevator instead of a bombed-out building. “I’m Kyle Foster, and my friends and I will have you out of here in no time.”

      Chapter Two

      “You’re an answer to a prayer,” Laura tried to shout, but her voice was hoarse from dust and singing.

      Her rescuer’s mouth curved in a slow, sensuous smile that would have weakened her knees—if she’d had any strength left and hadn’t been already sitting. She hoped he was as courageous as he appeared. He’d promised to get them out, but she could hear the building falling around them. Only someone with nerves of steel would risk being buried alive to help people he didn’t know.

      “Just keep those prayers coming till we’re out of here,” he called in a deep, resonant voice filled with steady reassurance.

      Jeremy stirred in Laura’s arms, and her anxiety for the child increased. “I have a little boy who’s hurt,” she called.

      Kyle’s smile disappeared, and concern filled his eyes. “How bad?”

      “Don’t know,” Laura replied out of honesty and a reluctance to frighten Tiffany and Jennifer any more than they already were.

      “Can you bring him to me?” Kyle said with a calmness that eased her racing heart. “We’ll take him out first.”

      Laura struggled to her feet with the boy in her arms. “Stay here, girls. I’ll be back for you.”

      She picked her way carefully through the wreckage toward the opening to the main corridor. Stumbling once, she almost fell, and chunks of plaster rained down on her. She hunched over Jeremy to shield him with her body and struggled to maintain her balance in that awkward pose.

      The boy roused again and looked up at her through unfocused eyes. “Mommy?”

      “No, sweetheart, I’m Laura.”

      She thought of his mother, of the parents of all three children and how frantic they must be to have their youngsters out of danger and back in their arms.

      And she thought of her own father, waiting outside for her rescue, desperate to see her unharmed.

      Soon, Daddy, she promised. Don’t worry about me.

      “You’re almost here.” Kyle’s encouraging voice echoed through the wreckage. “Keep coming.”

      “My arm hurts,” Jeremy whimpered.

      She bit back tears at the little boy’s pain. “We’ll have you fixed up real soon.”

      When she reached the opening, Kyle was gone, and she panicked, wondering if they’d been deserted. Debris continued to fall in the stillness of the wreckage, and she feared the rest of the building might collapse any moment.

      “Hello? Anyone there?” she called.

      Kyle’s handsome face reappeared, and she chastised herself for her lack of faith in him. She should have known from the reliable look in his amazing green eyes that the man wouldn’t desert them.

      “I’ve sent my partner after the paramedics and a stretcher.” He couldn’t fit his wide shoulders through the narrow hole, but he thrust his arms, clad in a denim jacket, into the opening. She noted the strong, slender fingers and square nails, streaked with dirt and marred with nicks and scratches from clawing through the wreckage.

      “Let me have him,” Kyle said. “We’ll take good care of him.”

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