today!” He kicked in the door with all the strength in his thigh muscles. It slammed off the interior wall—a wall that was shimmering with heat. Waves formed before his eyes and he lunged into the space, scouring it for the figure of a child.
Black smoke roiled from what was indeed a back staircase. A glance told him the fire was licking up the walls. In seconds, the whole place could crumble.
No child in the corners or under the bed. That left only the closet. He whipped open the door and saw her curled into a tight ball, fragile arms spun around her legs, eyes wide with terror.
He lunged forward and scooped her up, then in three strides reached the other room. At the moment he didn’t know whether to curse these old Victorian houses with the rooms running right into each other or celebrate them.
Grasping the woman around the waist, he plucked her off her knees and into his hold. With both mother and child in hand, he made haste toward the window. The woman gathered the child to her chest, freeing his one hand. With jerky movements, he threw the window open and shoved out the screen.
“We see you, Lucifer. Ladder coming your way.”
The cool air of the night didn’t permeate the thick fire response gear he wore and he couldn’t breathe anything but the air coming from the oxygen tank on his back, but the woman and child drew deep draughts into their lungs. Luke’s heart warmed as the ladder swung into view. And then he placed the little girl into the waiting firefighter’s arms, victory a sweet taste in his soul.
* * * * *
The social worker with the kindly brown eyes and the gentle expression placed a foam cup of coffee into Josie’s trembling hand. Josie kept her other hand locked around Maggie’s upper arm, afraid to stop touching her daughter.
I almost lost her , she said to herself for the twentieth time. She drank in her daughter’s pale face, round, blue eyes and upturned nose. People said Maggie looked just like her when she was a child. Except Josie was certain she’d never worn that tight-lipped look of fear.
“Ms. Springer, can I bring you some food? The cafeteria is closed, but there are always sandwiches.”
Josie shook her head. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t think of eating. She’d lost her house, her possessions, all of Maggie’s baby pictures—but thank God she hadn’t lost Maggie. “Did they discover where the fire started?”
The social worker nodded. “With the car. It was parked in an attached garage…?”
Shock ripped through Josie. “Y-yes.” She always parked there rather than on the busy street. Last year when she’d finally gotten the last of her ex-husband’s junk out of the way, she’d been thrilled to have private off-street parking.
She stared straight ahead at the pale walls of the hospital counseling center. After she and Maggie had been thoroughly checked for injuries and given some oxygen to counteract any smoke inhalation, they’d been brought here and a social worker assigned to them. Because they were now homeless.
“Let me get this straight. Our house and everything burned. And we also have no car ?”
The social worker’s brows drew together and her mouth turned down. “I’m very sorry. It’s always a blow to the victims of a fire to discover what you’ve lost. The important thing is you escaped with your lives. The rest can be replaced.”
Josie suddenly felt very small. She gulped back her tears and straightened her shoulders. “Of course you’re right.” Pulling Maggie onto her lap, she dropped her chin to the baby-fine, honey-blonde head. The fruity scents of children’s shampoo filled her nose, mingled with the reek of smoke.
The social worker continued, “We’ve set you up in a local hotel. You have seven days there. Hopefully by that time, you’ll have some other arrangements made. You say you don’t have family to help you?”
She shook her head. “Not in this city. And I can’t leave because of my job.” And
Black smoke roiled from what was indeed a back staircase. A glance told him the fire was licking up the walls. In seconds, the whole place could crumble.
No child in the corners or under the bed. That left only the closet. He whipped open the door and saw her curled into a tight ball, fragile arms spun around her legs, eyes wide with terror.
He lunged forward and scooped her up, then in three strides reached the other room. At the moment he didn’t know whether to curse these old Victorian houses with the rooms running right into each other or celebrate them.
Grasping the woman around the waist, he plucked her off her knees and into his hold. With both mother and child in hand, he made haste toward the window. The woman gathered the child to her chest, freeing his one hand. With jerky movements, he threw the window open and shoved out the screen.
“We see you, Lucifer. Ladder coming your way.”
The cool air of the night didn’t permeate the thick fire response gear he wore and he couldn’t breathe anything but the air coming from the oxygen tank on his back, but the woman and child drew deep draughts into their lungs. Luke’s heart warmed as the ladder swung into view. And then he placed the little girl into the waiting firefighter’s arms, victory a sweet taste in his soul.
* * * * *
The social worker with the kindly brown eyes and the gentle expression placed a foam cup of coffee into Josie’s trembling hand. Josie kept her other hand locked around Maggie’s upper arm, afraid to stop touching her daughter.
I almost lost her , she said to herself for the twentieth time. She drank in her daughter’s pale face, round, blue eyes and upturned nose. People said Maggie looked just like her when she was a child. Except Josie was certain she’d never worn that tight-lipped look of fear.
“Ms. Springer, can I bring you some food? The cafeteria is closed, but there are always sandwiches.”
Josie shook her head. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t think of eating. She’d lost her house, her possessions, all of Maggie’s baby pictures—but thank God she hadn’t lost Maggie. “Did they discover where the fire started?”
The social worker nodded. “With the car. It was parked in an attached garage…?”
Shock ripped through Josie. “Y-yes.” She always parked there rather than on the busy street. Last year when she’d finally gotten the last of her ex-husband’s junk out of the way, she’d been thrilled to have private off-street parking.
She stared straight ahead at the pale walls of the hospital counseling center. After she and Maggie had been thoroughly checked for injuries and given some oxygen to counteract any smoke inhalation, they’d been brought here and a social worker assigned to them. Because they were now homeless.
“Let me get this straight. Our house and everything burned. And we also have no car ?”
The social worker’s brows drew together and her mouth turned down. “I’m very sorry. It’s always a blow to the victims of a fire to discover what you’ve lost. The important thing is you escaped with your lives. The rest can be replaced.”
Josie suddenly felt very small. She gulped back her tears and straightened her shoulders. “Of course you’re right.” Pulling Maggie onto her lap, she dropped her chin to the baby-fine, honey-blonde head. The fruity scents of children’s shampoo filled her nose, mingled with the reek of smoke.
The social worker continued, “We’ve set you up in a local hotel. You have seven days there. Hopefully by that time, you’ll have some other arrangements made. You say you don’t have family to help you?”
She shook her head. “Not in this city. And I can’t leave because of my job.” And
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