Home Fires

HOME FIRES

A James Bay Novel

KATHLEEN IRENE PATERKA

Copyright 2012 © Kathleen Irene Paterka

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

ISBN-10: 0985512156

ISBN-13: 978-0-9855121-5-6

DEDICATION

For my husband, Assistant Chief Steve Paterka of the Charlevoix Township Fire Department. Every woman should be so lucky to have such a heroic amazing man in her life 24/7.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many people provided valuable assistance in the creation of this novel. I am grateful to all of them.

Jenna Mindel and Christine Elizabeth Johnson, fabulous critique partners, authors extraordinaire, and the best friends ever. Long live The Queen of Hearts Club!

Cathy Chant and Edie Ramer, for their continuing encouragement, support and advice.

My beta readers: Larry and Kay Campbell, and Judith Ivan. Their feedback of the original manuscript was invaluable.

Chief Curt Thompson of the Charlevoix Township Fire Department. He patiently answered all my questions and allowed me to explore the Township fire barn, plus climb around on top and inside the fire trucks. Air horns are great fun!

Chief Paul Ivan of the Charlevoix City Fire Department. His personal ‘
behind the scenes
’ tour of the Charlevoix City Fire Department and living quarters provided valuable information while researching for this novel.

Anne Victory, who took on the task of editing a burned-out manuscript and refining it into a blazing story; Karen Duvall, for her smoking hot cover artwork; and Amy Eye, the Queen of Formatting!

Most of all, to the brave courageous men and women who serve as first responders and never fail to answer the call when they’re toned out by Central Dispatch, no matter what time of night or day. You are all heroes in my book!

CHAPTER ONE

ARSON SUSPECTED IN RECENT DUMPSTER FIRES

____________________________________

By: Charles Kendall

The James Bay Journal

____________________________________

JAMES BAY—Local police and fire officials ask residents of the community to be alert in the wake of last weekend’s rash of dumpster fires in the downtown area.

“Dumpster fires aren’t unusual this time of year,” James Bay Fire Chief Ivan Thompson informed this reporter. “It’s summertime. People get sloppy with cigarette butts or their barbeque charcoal. But these fires were intentionally set.”

Arson is a second-degree felony punishable by a $15,000 fine and ten years’ imprisonment. Anyone with information is asked to contact the James Bay Police or Fire Department.

____________________________________

Home less than twelve hours and already she was a wreck. If she’d known there would be no coffee in the house, she never would have made the journey north without stocking up on her favorite beans. How could her mother have given up caffeine and switched to herbal tea without saying a word?

“You need to take the next right,” Irene Gallagher said from the passenger seat.

“I haven’t been gone that long, Mom,” Rose teased. “I think I still remember how to find the hospital.”

Irene clung to her shoulder seat belt as they rounded the corner. “You might want to slow down, sweetheart. My car isn’t used to going so fast.”

Since when was doing twenty in a twenty-five mile-per-hour zone fast? Rose eased her foot off the accelerator and shot her mother a smile. Her best I-haven’t-had-a-cup-of-coffee-since-yesterday-morning-but-I’m-not-complaining-YET smile.

“Watch out!” Irene gasped.

The cherry-red pickup loomed before them out of nowhere. Rose clutched the wheel and slammed on the brakes, but too late to stop the aging sedan. It smashed into the rear of the pickup. The grill crumpled flat against the gleaming bumper like a child’s accordion.

“Mom?” Rose twisted in her seat and winced as the seat belt cut into her shoulder. She struggled to free herself. “Mom, are you hurt?”

“I think I’ll live,” Irene said with a grimace. “Too bad the same can’t be said for my car.”

Or his truck. Rose cringed as the driver slid from his pickup and leveled her with a furious glare. Who could blame him? She was the one at fault.

“Cecilia Rose? I can’t… I think my seat belt is stuck.”

“Let me try.” She blinked back tears as she pushed aside her mother’s fumbling fingers and grappled with the belt. One second of carelessness and look what had happened. All three of them could have been killed. Rose blinked harder but everything stayed a blur. The seat belt wouldn’t unlock. “I’ll come around your side and get you out.”

Cutting the engine, she scooted from behind the steering wheel. Brilliant revolving lights registered against gleaming metal as her sandals connected with hot asphalt.

“Whoa, not so fast,” a deep male voice rumbled. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Rose glanced up into a determined face steeled with resolve. The driver of the pickup looked hot under the collar.

“That’s my brand-new truck you hit.”

“I—”

“Somebody should teach you how to drive.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m very sorry—”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” He blew hard and shook his head. “Do you know how long I’ve had that truck? Two weeks and two days… and some woman takes me out in broad daylight in the middle of summer. Wintertime, I might understand, but—”

Some woman? Rose felt her own temper rising. He had some nerve. She wouldn’t have hit him if he hadn’t stopped so fast.

“This wasn’t all my fault.” Her words rushed between them. “You had no business stopping in the middle of the road without warning.”

His eyes narrowed. “There’s a stop sign at that corner, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“There is not,” she shot back.

“See for yourself.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Rose glanced past him, then swallowed hard as she spotted the gleaming red stop sign. Her face flushed. Since when had this intersection become a four-way stop? Obviously since the last time she’d been home.

“Looks like you’ve got a little explaining to do.” He ticked off the offenses on his fingertips. “Failure to yield, following too close, plowing into my truck—”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose.” Her face felt hotter than the metallic red paint on his pickup. “I was distracted—”

“Doing what? Putting on your lipstick?”

She forced down an angry rejoinder. “I didn’t see you.”

He shot her a shrewd smile. “Another one to add to the list. Careless driving.”

Rose steamed. The last thing she needed was to stand around arguing with some local yokel. She’d been taught how to drive by the best. Her own dad had been the instructor behind the wheel of the drivers’ training car. “For your information, I am an excellent driver.”

“I’d say that’s up for debate,” he drawled, staring at her with a look of amusement that caused a slow burn in the pit of her stomach. “We’ll let the police figure things out. I called them from my truck. They should be here any minute.”

“Fine.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and glared at him. What a morning. A late start, no coffee, topped off by running—literally—into this idiot. It would serve him right if the Chief of Police himself showed up at the scene. Not that she expected special favors from local law enforcement, but Chief Dennis and her dad had been good friends. Small-town connections and a friendly face couldn’t hurt.

“I hope you’ve got your license handy.” He reached in his back pocket and drew out his wallet. “You wouldn’t want them to add driving without a license to the list of offenses.”

“Of course I have my license. Plus proof of insurance and registration. They’re in the glove compartment. See for yourself.” She gestured toward her mother’s car—

Irene Gallagher waved through the front window.

“Oh, no.” Rose’s words hung like a sodden towel put out to dry in the hot June sunshine.

His eyebrows arched in a question mark. “Something wrong?”

“You might say that.” Shamefaced, she nodded toward the vehicle.

He craned his neck and peered through the driver’s side window. Irene’s smile widened as she wiggled her fingers and gave him a little nod.

“Who’s that?”

“My mother.” Rose whirled on heel and headed for the passenger door. “Her seat belt is stuck.”

“It probably jammed from the force of impact.” His words floated from somewhere close behind. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance.” She leaned in the passenger seat and wrestled with the seat belt.

“Are you hurt, ma’am?” He crouched low beside the car. “Do you need an ambulance?”

“Thank you, young man, but there’s no need for that.”

“Looks like you could use a hand.” He nudged in closer to Rose. “Let me help.”

“Forget it,” Rose muttered. “I can do it myself.” A stranger offering assistance was a rarity in her world. Who did that anymore? He never would have stopped if she hadn’t plowed into his truck.

Then again, if she hadn’t hit him, there would have been no need for him to stop. It was her fault they were in this mess. Rose struggled harder, trying to unravel the twisted belt. If only he would get out of her way, she could fix things just fine.

“Sweetheart, perhaps it would be better if you let the young man try,” Irene said after a moment.

“I’ve almost got it, Mom.” Sweat beaded on her forehead but she wasn’t about to give up. Not when she almost had things free. Not with him standing so close behind.

“Oh, Lord,” Irene gasped. “Look at that smoke.”

Billowing white smoke poured from underneath the hood. Rose sucked in a deep breath. The hair on the back of her neck bristled. “Come on, come on!” She gave the seat belt a desperate yank.

“Let me do it.” He pushed past her to fill the passenger door and in an instant, the belt clicked free. “Ma’am? Think you can put your arms around my neck?”

Rose bit her lip. A hurried glance showed a tall, solid man with burnished blond hair, a steady gaze and arms that could easily cradle her mother. But with that knee so swollen and inflamed, one wrong move could mean intense pain.

“Be careful. She has a bad knee and can’t move fast…”

In one fluid movement, Irene was up, out, and safe on the sidewalk.

“Would you mind grabbing her cane? It’s in the back seat.” Rose had no intention of going anywhere near the car. The way that smoke looked, the vehicle would soon be fully engulfed in flames.

There wasn’t even a chance to thank him as he handed over the cane. Already he was at the front of the car, fumbling around the grillwork. In one quick swoop, he had the hood up. White smoke rushed from the engine, filling the hot summer air with even more heat. Rose eyed him as he labored under the hood. He didn’t appear ruffled in spite of the rolling smoke. She shivered, remembering some of those videos on late night television where the cars suddenly burst into flames.

She backed farther away onto the grass and squeezed her mother’s hand.

“Think I found your problem,” he called after a moment. “Looks like the radiator hose broke.”

“Would you please get away from there?” she urged. They’d exchanged words but that didn’t mean he deserved to be roasted and toasted in front of their eyes. “Before the whole thing goes up in flames?”

“Calm down, the car isn’t on fire.” He stepped back from the hood and nodded at the muddy green fluid pooling on the street. “See that? Antifreeze on the exhaust manifold. That’s what caused the smoke. It’ll stop once the antifreeze runs out.”