and Faith followed, but this time Sam made it a point not to touch her. No one could say he didn’t learn from his mistakes.
They met Phoebe at the family room’s French doors, where she waited impatiently for him to unlock and open them. Outside, he watched the little girl stop and stare, taking everything in. It wasn’t long before she moved closer to the water.
“Don’t fall in,” Faith warned.
Sam positioned himself close enough to pluck her out if necessary. “I have arm floaties for my niece if you want them.”
“I can swim,” Phoebe informed him. “My camp is at the lake and they taught me how.”
“Good.”
“Can I go swimming?” she asked.
“That’s up to your mom.”
“As long as there’s an adult outside with you.” Faith held up a hand, obviously aware protest was coming. “I know you’re not a baby and can swim but water safety starts with never swimming alone.”
“Your mom is right,” Sam agreed.
“Okay. They told us that at camp, too.” The little girl moved closer to him and looked up. “I like you, Sam.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Squirt.”
“None of my friends have a pool,” she continued.
“What am I? Chopped liver? I thought I was your friend,” he protested.
“You are. So,” she continued, “does that mean I can go swimming anytime I want? As long as there’s an adult there with me?”
“Whoa, kiddo,” Faith said. “Remember we’re only here temporarily. One day. Maybe two. Just until the fire is contained and it’s safe to go home.”
“You told me that a million times, Mom.” She went over to explore the outdoor kitchen.
“You know, Faith, she’s welcome to come swimming anytime,” Sam offered.
Faith glanced at her daughter, who was opening drawers and the outdoor refrigerator and too far away to hear. “Please don’t make promises to my child that you don’t intend to keep.”
“I have every intention of keeping that promise.”
“Maybe right this minute,” she said. “But life will go back to normal and there will be female visitors. Two strikes and out. Breakup bouquets and peonies. A promise to a little girl could get in the way of that lifestyle and your women.”
“So much for you being nice to me.”
“I wasn’t being mean. Just stating a fact.” She looked past him and frowned. “Phoebe Catherine, I told you not to touch anything. Stop right now.”
Sam watched her walk away and realized several things, starting with the fact that Phoebe’s father didn’t seem to be in the picture. One could presume that Faith had been let down big-time by a man. The self-reliant message was a big clue, as was the warning to keep his promise to her child or she’d come after him like a pack of wolves. She hadn’t actually said that but the expression in her eyes had conveyed the message loud and clear.
But she needed to realize a few things, too. There weren’t as many women in his life as she thought and he made sure none of them had expectations. He wasn’t a bad guy and wanted Faith to know it. He was very careful not to make promises he couldn’t keep. Starting with commitment.
Very soon he was going to set her straight about all of the above.
Faith left work early the next day and headed to the fire staging area for a volunteer shift. At the base of the mountain she saw auxiliary fire trucks parked, and soot-covered, exhausted men slumped against them. Not far away there was a tarp, and underneath it were picnic benches and a propane steam table where food was being kept warm. After parking her van she got out and instantly was hit by a gust of hot wind that whipped her hair around. She slid a scrunchie from the pocket of her jeans and pulled the strands off her face into a ponytail, then walked over to the food area.
Delanie Carlson, who owned the local pub, Bar None, transferred a case of water bottles to a large insulated chest then poured a bag of ice in to cool them down quickly. At a stove stirring food she saw Lucy Bishop, chef and co-owner of the Harvest Café. Both women were good friends.
“It’s really windy.” That was stating the obvious and there was no point in doing that. They all knew what could happen and worry clawed at her. But she was here to do her part and take her mind off the fact that she could lose her home.
“What can I do?” she asked Lucy.
“Organize the paper plates and utensils for an assembly line. The firefighters are on a regular rotating schedule,” the blue-eyed blonde said. “They need the breaks to cool off, eat and rest. Otherwise someone could make a deadly mistake.”
“That sounds like Desmond Parker’s doing. Everyone says he’s a really good fire captain,” Faith said.
“That’s the rumor. I’ve seen for myself that he’s hard-core about enforcing breaks.” Lucy’s tone said she respected him for doing a great job, but in other areas he was not deserving of her high opinion.
“Ice is really cold.” Delanie joined them, shaking water off her hands.
“That’s kind of the point.” Faith smiled.
The auburn-haired woman returned it. “But I wish someone could invent ice that didn’t give you frostbite.”
“Get ready, ladies. We’re almost up.” Lucy pointed to a group of men who had just disembarked from a truck that’d pulled into the staging area. They were wearing thick coats and pants plus heavy boots and other firefighting gear. Their first stop was a comfort station, where they poured water over their heads. Then the grimy jackets were shucked before they lined up at the food station.
Faith handed the first guy a plate and plastic utensils wrapped in a paper napkin. “How are you?”
“Hot. Hungry. Beat.”
There was nothing else to say. Clearly he didn’t have the energy to make small talk. She couldn’t imagine how difficult the working conditions were.
Lucy piled the man’s plate with food. It wasn’t fancy but there was plenty. “Is there progress?”
“Hard to tell.”
“There’s a table over there with cookies,” Delanie said, handing him an icy-cold water bottle. “And thanks for what you’re doing.”
“It’s my job,” he said simply.
“I know. But thanks. When this is over there’s a round of drinks waiting for you guys at Bar None.”
“Then we better get it over.” His smile
