Allie Pleiter - Falling for the Fireman

Could He Help Her Son?

There’s something achingly familiar about the look in fire marshal Chad Owens’s eyes. Widowed mom Jeannie Nelworth knows firsthand what it is: loss, hurt and yes—bitterness. Ever since the fire that changed their lives, Jeannie’s young son has borne that same look, pushing everyone away. So she’s grateful when Chad tries to get through to the boy with the help of his trusty fire station dog. But the man who’s all about safety and prevention keeps himself protected—from loving and losing again. Seems as if Jeannie will have to add his kind, guarded heart to her rebuilding efforts.

“I can test these smoke detectors for you, but I don’t think that will really solve your problem.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not really smoke you’re afraid of.” He pulled a book of matches out of his pocket and Jeannie fought the urge to flinch.

“You said you didn’t need matches to test the smoke detectors,” she reminded him.

“I don’t,” Chad said gently, “but you need them to test yourself. Jeannie, you need to get over this. You need to light a match.”

“Oh, no, I don’t!” Jeannie blurted out her refusal, even though she was embarrassed Chad had guessed her fear of flame. Did he have to strike such a nerve?

“Don’t feel bad—I’ve seen sillier reactions on much more serious people. I can help. And I won’t tell anyone.”

Why would Chad Owens do something like this for her? Jeannie couldn’t bring herself to ask the question.

Falling for the Fireman

Allie Pleiter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Know also that wisdom is like honey for you:

If you find it, there is a future hope for you,

and your hope will not be cut off.

—Proverbs 24:14

Dedication

To first responders everywhere—

God bless your courage and dedication

Acknowledgments

Astute travelers will recognize Gordon Falls bears a striking resemblance to Galena, Illinois (the beautiful fire house and floodgates are dead giveaways). Jeannie and Chad’s community owes all of its charm—and none of its faults—to the lovely town that inspired their story. Thanks to Don Lay, fire marshal of Carol Stream, Illinois; and to Mike Simmons, chief of the Galena, Illinois, fire department for their input and endurance of my endless questions. Any missed professional details are surely my own fault, and not related to their fine assistance. Special thanks to the Pokorn family for lending me their home while I “researched” peaceful atmosphere, great views, good food and awesome shopping. It is the people and places that make my job as wonderful as it is, and I’m forever grateful.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Gordon Falls, Illinois

September 2009

Jeannie Nelworth had the faucet handle in a death grip. It wasn’t that the women’s restroom of The Stew Pot restaurant was a tense place; she just hadn’t expected her nerve to go out from under her quite so completely tonight. Somewhere between picking up name tags and the Merchant Association’s first agenda item, she’d had to bolt into the ladies’ room to pull herself together. She’d found the bright red wallpaper amusing before, but now it felt loud and suffocating.

Abby Reed was predictably right behind her. A best friend can usually see through faked calm, and Abby was as intuitive as they come.

“I’m okay,” Jeannie lied the moment Abby pushed into the tiny room.

“You are not okay.” Abby turned and threw the door’s small dead bolt Jeannie had forgotten to latch. “I told Mary Hunnington not to ask you about postponing tonight’s presentation, that you’d say ‘go ahead’ when you shouldn’t have.”

“I like being at these dinners.” Jeannie forced a cheery tone, pulling her hand off the fixture to fuss with her long brown hair that didn’t need fussing. It was true. Normally she did enjoy the monthly gathering of businesspeople in town. The many shopkeepers, hotel owners and restauranteurs that made up Gordon Falls were her family. Even the tourists were part of her life here. That’s why it was so hard to have her sweetshop closed—if only for a while.

“Besides,” she continued, “Nicky’d never forgive me for ruining his monthly video-game sleepover. Much as it kills me, that eighth-grade tornado loves a night away from his mom.”

Abby sighed and gave her the look half the other merchants had. She knew her colleagues cared for her, only now their warm but pitying looks made her feel simultaneously welcome and on display. “Really, there isn’t a soul here who would have blamed you if you missed this one. You’re the last person who needs to hear tips on holiday lighting and fire safety.”

Why bother waiting? Another thirty days wouldn’t change the fact that her candy store and home had burned down a few weeks ago. “If I stayed home, what would that solve?” To stay home was admitting defeat, and Jeannie liked to think of herself as the kind of woman who gave no quarter to tragedies like that. “Okay, it’s hard,” she admitted, but even those three words felt too big, “but God is bigger than a burned building.”

“It’s not just a building, it was your home. And the home you had with Nicky. The home you had with Henry, God rest his soul. God is big, but that’s huge.”

Just the mention of her late husband’s name was enough to double the size of the knot in her throat, even after half a dozen years. She’d loved her quaint shop down by the riverfront. It hadn’t been close to the center of town, but she’d always thought that made it feel homey. It had been close enough to catch the riverfront tourists, and back then she, Henry and Nicky used to watch the sun come up over the river as they ate breakfast in their home above the shop.

Then Henry was gone. Now, six years later, the building was gone. “What’s the whole point of faith if not to sustain me through something like this?”

Abby started in, but Jeannie just blinked back tears and shot her hand up in a silent “Don’t.”

After a quiet moment, Abby pulled a paper towel from the ancient metal dispenser and blotted her own tears. “George wants to talk to you,” she said softly. A conversation with George Bradens, Gordon Falls’s Fire Chief, usually meant getting roped onto a committee for some new civic endeavor. “He says it’s about Nicky.” Abby put a hand on Jeannie’s shoulder. “Listen, this is too much. Let me make some excuse for you so you can go home.”

“I’m fine.”

Abby leaned against the red Formica countertop. “I thought we covered this already.”

The room was far too red. Red tile, red wallpaper. It all felt like sirens going off, close and loud. “Well, I’m close to fine.” That’s how she chose to view the raw-around-the-edges feeling that had continued to plague her every day—every hour—since the fire. The entire month felt like peeling off singed layers, discovering new burns in unexpected places every time she was sure she was done with all that. “I don’t want to go back to the apartment anyway.” That dingy apartment she and Nicky rented now seemed so unbearably temporary. They couldn’t see the river, and they seemed far away from everyone. It was the worst of both worlds. Stuck in the middle, endlessly coping.