Gail Martin - The Firefighter's New Family

Standing back, he surveyed the window. Though difficult to measure, he pulled the measure tape from his pocket and did his best to estimate the size in each direction, one large window and two smaller panes. He’d let the expert worry about accurate measurements.

Devon made the two calls before he left the house. Both men promised to call back and come by today as soon as they could, so all he had to do was wait.

After returning the vacuum cleaner to the closet, he passed another row of photographs sitting on a small buffet in the dining room. He walked closer, his stomach tightening. Ashley and Adam’s wedding photo wrenched his heart. Two smiling faces beamed into the camera, their arms entwined, a bouquet of white orchids tinged in pink, dark green vines twining between pink rosebuds. A lump formed in his throat, and at that moment, he realized the tears were for himself.

His marriage had ended more strangely than he could ever understand. He and Gina had never argued other than the typical little squabbles all couples had. They’d been in love...he’d thought. When he tried to sort it out, the only clue he found came after her pregnancy. She called it postpartum depression. He’d known of the illness, but had no idea the stress it would add to their lives. Days came when she didn’t want to get out of bed. She had lost interest in everything. Her mood swung from anger to withdrawn silence. Even toward Kaylee. Because of his work schedule, she suggested living with her sister who could help her. He watched her go, but he’d tried everything to bring her home. Instead of getting better, she became worse.

The memories tore through him, weighting his chest and curdling his stomach. He loved his daughter. He’d loved Gina, but the love had died. She’d become a woman he no longer knew. He’d failed her. Even prayers and pleading with God had reaped no answer, and finally he stopped, sensing that her choice was God’s will. Had he been wrong to think it had been the Lord’s decision? He still had no answer to the question.

Thinking of her call, he’d heard a new desperation in her voice. Something prodded him to call her and demand Kaylee today. He could fight for custody. He turned his eyes to the one window open, which added light to the room. As he looked at the blurred scenery, tears rolled down his cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his hand, frustrated that he’d allowed himself to succumb to self-pity.

Or was it really pity? Love for his daughter burned in his heart.

He forced himself away from the photographs, not liking the feelings they’d exposed. He scanned the other rooms. Everything looked in order, a few things here and there like any home. Ashley hadn’t planned an injury and days in the hospital when she walked out the side door to move her car and salvage Joey’s wagon.

Joey. The child would need clothes if he stayed with Neely, and he had the key. He’d call and return it. As the situations organized in his mind, a noise alerted him. He glanced out the front door and saw the window repairman. Once he was gone, he’d leave for the store to pick up milk. Or maybe he’d wait until he learned Ashley’s release date.

With Ashley on his mind, he opened the door for the window installer and led him to the living room. While he watched the man work, he reviewed the thoughts skittering through his mind. He wanted to get to know Ashley better. A lady friend sounded nice. A sweet sensation rolled through his chest, but for now, he could only handle friendship.

He had offered his babysitting services to Neely again, thinking about Kaylee and Joey playing together, but the bonus to his plan offered him a chance to bond with Ashley. He liked her. A lot. Though Kaylee was almost a year older, Joey’s skills for a three-year-old equaled hers, he was sure. They would get along fine.

But what if they didn’t? That could be the end of his plan.

Chapter Three

Ashley closed her eyes, willing away the ache in her arms. She’d hoisted Joey so many times, but lifting her own weight on crutches brought about a whole different challenge. She caught herself more than once forgetting to keep the weight off her left leg.

“One more time.”

The therapist’s command struck her again, and she wanted to rebel at his insistence even though she knew the therapy was good for her. When she could walk with the crutches, she could go home.

Home. She’d missed her place so much. She’d survived Adam’s death. This setback should have been nothing more than a bump in her life. Instead, she’d allowed it to become a dunghill.

Shame swept over her. Strength. Courage. Faith. Those attributes had been her stronghold. Where were they now?

“Ashley. If you want to go home, you—”

“I know. If I want to go home, I have to maneuver stairs. I know. I know.” The tone of her voice sickened her.

“Good. So maneuver them.”

His cocky comment grated on her patience, but his job consisted of being firm, being supportive and teaching her to walk with crutches. He’d tried firm and supportive. All she’d left for him to use was sarcasm.

She lowered her forehead to her forearm and brushed the perspiration away from her eyes. The stairs took effort and balance. She could do it.

One step at a time, Ashley made her way to the top and back down the other side. “There. How’s that?”

“Good. Take a minute and then do it again.” His eyes captured hers, and her frustration subsided.

Compassion. The emotion slipped through her, and she wished she’d not taken her defeated feeling out on him. Without another comment, she moved forward, working her way up and down each step, one at a time.

“Good job.” He gave her shoulder a pat. “You’re finished for today. In fact, I think you could go home tomorrow.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“Your surgeon makes the final decision, but I’ll recommend it. I think you’re ready.”

After four days she was ready. Tomorrow seemed a lifetime, but her gratefulness swelled. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for—”

He put his thick finger to his lips. “Shh. No apologies. I’ve heard much worse. I’ve been called names, hit with a crutch—”

“I hope you’re kidding.”

“Nope. Fact.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Ashley, be patient with yourself. It won’t be easy, and I know you have a toddler at home who you need to care for. Just be careful. No fast moves. Ask for help when you need it, and allow people to be there for you.”

He knew her better than she realized. “I’ll remember.”

She slipped into the wheelchair, and he gave her an agreeable nod before turning to his next patient. While she waited for an escort to take her to her room, she reviewed what he’d said. Her family had been at her beck and call for so long. They adored Joey, and Adam’s death had cut off a slice of their lives, too, but she did find it difficult to ask for help sometimes. Even Devon, her firefighter hero, had stepped into her life, and though she enjoyed talking to him, her discomfort grew, feeling the old guilt as if she shouldn’t enjoy another man’s company.

“Ready?”

Her head jerked upward, hearing the escort. She managed a smile, and he turned her around and wheeled her back to her room.

Once in bed, she had him prop her pillows so she could sit up and come alive. Her leg ached. Her arms ached. Her head ached. A pill could resolve those issues, but her other problems, ones she didn’t understand, couldn’t be settled with a pill. She closed her eyes, and Joey filled her mind. He missed her, and she missed him. Terribly. Neely’s visit came with stories of his antics. Her father visited and relayed the cute things Joey did when they spent time together. Though she loved hearing their stories, they brought envy. No one should have fun with her son unless she was there to enjoy it.