A Firefighter's Promise. Patricia Johns

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СКАЧАТЬ of, and he idly wondered if Rachel would put up another one for Chris. Maybe he was already too old for a tire swing. Matt wasn’t exactly in the know when it came to kids. He was the kind of relative who gave his cousins’ kids cash when he saw them because he could never quite remember their birthdays and wanted to make sure he covered his bases.

      Matt glanced at the old houses on either side of the street, flower gardens in bloom. A few of the homes sported American flags, rippling proudly in the summer wind, and he sighed. If he got this job, he had to admit, he would miss Haggerston.

      His cell phone rang, and he glanced down at the number as he slowed to a stop at an intersection. It was his brother. Matt put the phone on speaker, tossed it onto the seat beside him and eased the vehicle forward again.

      “Hi, Craig,” he said.

      “Hey, how did that interview go?” his brother asked.

      “Really good. They’re taking me seriously.”

      “Fantastic.”

      “But that wasn’t the most interesting part of my day,” he admitted.

      “Oh, yeah?” Craig pried.

      “Do you remember that time a few years ago when a baby was dropped off on the doorstep of the firehouse?”

      “I think so.”

      “Well, he’s back.”

      “The baby?”

      “Yeah.” Matt chuckled. “Well, he’s about seven now. His adoptive mother moved into town, and they stopped by the firehouse to say hi. I guess she wanted to show him where he was found.”

      “How’s the kid doing?”

      “Okay.” He paused. “Maybe not so well. His mom says that her husband died a few years ago, and the kid only recently found out that he’s adopted, so that’s been pretty hard on him.”

      “Ouch. I’ll bet.”

      “So I stopped by their place to—” Matt cringed. This still sounded very much like a date. “I asked them out to dinner.”

      “Is that a good idea? They just moved here, and you’re planning to move on.”

      “Not like that,” Matt grumbled. “I know how it sounds. I didn’t really get much of a chance to talk to Chris, and I wanted to chat with him a bit. His mother seems to think it will help.”

      He signaled at the next stop sign and took a left toward the main road. The houses in this direction were smaller and the yards not as well tended. He knew several of the people on this street, however. Living his entire life in one town had that effect.

      “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 СКАЧАТЬ