Hidden Blessing. Leona Karr

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      The day was long and trying, and only the hope that Ward would come back kept Shannon’s spirits from scraping bottom. The danger of firefighting became personal when Laura told her a story about a teenage Ward trying to handle a meadow fire all by himself and nearly getting trapped by the blaze before help got there.

      Her heart contracted with a sudden jolt. Surely, Ward had enough sense to leave the fighting to the professionals. He was just delivering supplies, she reassured herself, but how well she knew that he wouldn’t think of his safety in a time of danger.

      All afternoon and evening, she kept an eye out for him, but he didn’t show. It was Ted who came in late that evening and told her Ward had already gone to the ranch.

      She wasn’t surprised. No doubt he’d had enough of her trauma and drama. Remembering the way she had gone into his arms and accepted his tender caresses, she chided herself for letting her emotions play her for a fool. As she lay stiffly on her sagging cot, she firmly resolved she wouldn’t make that mistake again. She knew better than to give her emotions free rein. There was always a price to pay for letting anyone too close. She had plenty of scars to prove it.

      Chapter Three

      Shannon slept very little that night. About two o’clock in the morning, fifty firefighters from a unit in Idaho arrived at the school. Since it was too late to make it to the base camp, they crowded into the gym with the rest of the refugees.

      Shannon was up early and helped serve breakfast. Being in the midst of these brave young people who were willing to put their lives in danger was a startling revelation to her. Many times she had watched television coverage of California wildfires or heard about some fighter losing his or her life, but she had only been touched on a superficial level. Now that detachment disappeared, and her heart was filled with personal concern as she moved among these dedicated men who were going to battle a fierce, monstrous wildfire that was out of control.

      When Reverend Cozzins said a prayer for their safety, Shannon bowed her head with everyone else and murmured a fervent amen. Even though she wanted to believe in some kind of heavenly protection, she knew it would take a faith stronger than hers to rely on any divine miracles.

      The crew of firefighters left the school right after breakfast, leaving behind a mounting tension and anxiety in the crowded school. A briefing bulletin posted on the bulletin board later that morning was not encouraging. The prediction was for strong winds and high temperatures. Numerous infrared photos taken of the fire’s boundary showed an ever widening area of destruction.

      “We have to do something to keep the children occupied,” declared Laura. In her usual energetic manner, she immediately started enlisting help to get some activities going. She organized several groups to play some outdoor games on the school grounds and sent some of the youngest children into the library to listen to stories.

      Shannon had no intention of volunteering for anything or calling attention to herself in any way, but Kenny had different ideas. With childish pride, he pointed her out to all the kids.

      “She’s the one who found Pokey. He was lost, and the fire almost got him. But she saved him, didn’t you, Shannon?”

      The cluster of grinning children beamed at Shannon in a way that made her want to sink into the floor. What could she say without taking away Kenny’s moment in the limelight? “I didn’t exactly find him—he found me.”

      Laura Cozzins suddenly appeared at Shannon’s side, saving her from having to say anything more about Kenny’s dog. “Well, now, I see you’ve already made friends with Kenny and his pals. Wonderful, Shannon.” She beamed. “Why don’t you take them into the art room and let them draw and color and make all kinds of wonderful things?” She smiled broadly as she elicited nodding approval from the kids. “Doesn’t that sound like fun, children?”

      Shannon could have summoned a hundred reasons why she was the last person in the world to be put in charge of a bunch of kids, but she didn’t have a chance.

      Kenny grabbed her hand. “You can be our teacher.”

      The rest of children nodded and crowded around her with smiles and beaming faces, effectively eliminating any chance she had for refusal. As the children began to pull Shannon toward the classroom Laura completely ignored her frantic plea for help.

      “You’ll have fun,” Laura promised with a chuckle, and quickly turned away to draft someone else for one of her projects.

      How in the world did I get myself into this? Shannon would have rather faced a roomful of hostile executives than a roomful of squirrelly youngsters. Raised as an only child by parents who never stayed in one city very long, she had always been the new kid in school, and being around younger children had never been a part of her upbringing. She grew up in an adult world where achievement and success were the driving goals. As a result, Shannon was competitive, motivated and competent when it came to the business world, but it only took ten minutes in the art classroom with a cluster of scattering children to discover that her people-management skills were sadly lacking in the present situation.

      “Everyone sit down,” she said in a normal voice, which had little impact in the noise level of excited kids darting about the room, handling everything that wasn’t tacked or glued down.

      Boxes of donated supplies were on the tables. She knew that if she didn’t do something, impatient children would be diving into them, and the chaos would grow worse by the minute. It didn’t help her confidence to realize no one in the room was paying any attention to her.

      She had to take charge, and quickly. Remembering that one of the first rules of a successful business leader was to command attention, she clapped her hands loudly and raised her voice above the bedlam. “Listen to me! I want everyone to sit down now! And be quiet!”

      Later Shannon wondered what she would have done if the kids had ignored her, but to her relief, they quickly filled the chairs at two long tables and fixed their grinning smiles on her. She guessed that their ages ranged from kindergarten to second or third grades. Now that she had their attention she didn’t know what to do with it.

      She walked over to a table and looked at the boxes of pencils, crayons, paper and a few coloring books. She cleared her throat, hoping she would sound steadier than she felt. “All right, we’re going to draw and color pictures.”

      “I want a picture to color,” a curly-headed girl named Heather howled when Shannon gave the last coloring book page to someone else.

      “I bet you can draw a nice picture of your own to color,” Shannon coaxed.

      Heather set her lips in a pugnacious line. “I want a real picture.”

      “Sorry. I’m afraid that there aren’t any coloring book pictures left,” Shannon said flatly.

      “Then you draw me one,” Heather ordered with pouting lips, and shoved her plain sheet of paper toward Shannon.

      Fuming silently, Shannon grabbed a pencil, and as quickly as she could she sketched a house with a flower garden and tall tree with a child’s swing in it. “There. Color that.”

      Heather looked at it, then gave Shannon a broad smile of approval. “It’s nice.”

      “I’m glad you like it,” Shannon said in relief as the little girl picked out some crayons and began to color the picture.

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