The Firefighter's Christmas Reunion - Christy Jeffries

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her smartphone that would convert US dollars into Ghanaian currency, but she couldn’t remember where she’d left her purse. She was about to say as much to Sammy when she heard an older boy in a tan Scout uniform snicker. “That’s worth two goats and a water buffalo where you come from.”

      Anger flooded her and she was about to admonish the mean-spirited kid when Isaac called out, “Hey, JP, since you seem to know so much about livestock, why don’t you go help Scooter Deets fill up those slop buckets he brought over from his ranch. He needs someone to sort through the trash for any leftover pancake bits that might’ve gotten thrown out. I’m sure his hogs will appreciate it.”

      “But that’s disgusting,” the bigger boy said. “Those trash bags are covered in syrup and junk.”

      Isaac’s only response was a steely scowl that didn’t invite any more back talk. Hannah should learn how to imitate that expression, since it might prove useful in her classroom full of fifth-graders this school year. JP pivoted with a huff, muttering under his breath as he shoved past a smirking eight-year-old who hid a box of plastic gloves behind his back. Apparently her son wasn’t the only boy who’d been picked on by this bully.

      “Kids like that are jealous of worldly guys like us.” Isaac finally turned toward Sammy and gave him a wink. Worldly? Maybe. But guys like us? Please. As if her ex-boyfriend was anything like her sweet son. However, before Hannah could say as much, the man continued. “When I was younger and first came to Sugar Falls to visit my Uncle Jonesy, some of the other boys in town didn’t know what to think because I was new and different. But my uncle kept a close watch to make sure nobody messed with me. So if JP gives you any more problems, let me know and I’ll set him straight.”

      “I will.” Sammy nodded as he approached Isaac, curiosity apparent in his expression.

      Hannah felt her heels press back onto the ground, her calf muscles relaxing as the fight drained out of her. It wasn’t like she could get mad at the person who’d just defended her son. Then again, it was her role as Sammy’s mother to be his number one protector. After all, it wasn’t like Isaac would be around in the future to take on all the bullies of the world.

      “Why are you making them so fat?” her son asked as Isaac poured the last of the batter onto the griddle.

      “What do you mean, big guy?” Isaac asked, and Hannah tried to steel her heart against the sweet tone of his voice. Sammy was a few inches shorter and much thinner than the other six-year-olds in his den. So his smile lit up even more at being referred to as big guy.

      “In Ghana, our pancakes are real skinny. Like pieces of paper.”

      Isaac knelt down to speak to the boy and Hannah strained to hear his reply. “I’ll tell you what. If you get the recipe for me, next time we have a pancake breakfast, we’ll make them your way. I had some like that once when I lived in Morocco and I bet everyone in town will love ’em.”

      Something tugged low in Hannah’s belly. Isaac hadn’t said that he’d make Sammy his own batch, which would only have made her son feel more different and out of place. Instead, he’d had the perfect response, offering to bring a piece of Sammy’s old life to share with everyone in his new life.

      It was too bad Isaac Jones never kept his word.

       Chapter Two

      The strident bell pierced Hannah’s eardrums and she frantically looked around the classroom for her son, who’d been helping her staple the words Happy Halloween to the bulletin board that had belonged to Mrs. Fernandez before the teacher had gone on maternity leave. Sammy dropped the stapler and had his hands covering his own ears. His pupils were wide but, thankfully, not filled with terror.

      “It’s just the fire alarm,” she told him, using her calmest teacher voice. “Come on. I’ll show you where we line up.”

      She reached for his hand and, though his expression was filled with a mix of curiosity and tension, he immediately latched onto Hannah and followed her out to the nearly empty hallway lined with student artwork from earlier this year. His head pivoted in every possible direction and he asked, “Where is the fire?”

      “There probably isn’t a fire, sweetie. Otherwise, we’d smell the smoke. My bet is they’re just testing the alarm to make sure it works.” A few other teachers—who, like her, must’ve come in on a Sunday to catch up on lesson plans and grading—trickled out of various rooms and toward the front door. Some of the tension left Sammy’s fingers as he saw that nobody else was concerned about the constant peal of the bell. Hannah raised her voice to be heard over it, as well as the siren on the fire engine pulling into the drop-off lane. “At the beginning of the school year, the teachers show all the kids what we do during a fire drill. But since we’re both coming in a little late this semester, we’ll get to figure it out together.”

      It might’ve sounded like a grand adventure, except Hannah was pretty sure she hadn’t yet explained about fire drills to Sammy. Actually, there was a lot she hadn’t explained to the boy, but she hadn’t wanted to overwhelm him with information. There’d been classrooms at the children’s home where he’d lived and he was excited about attending school. Although he had an accent from growing up in the Western region of Ghana, the orphanage had been founded by British missionaries. There wouldn’t be much of a language barrier, just a cultural one. Besides, he was a smart child. Not everything was new and different, so there was no need to be patronizing. Her plan was to stick close to him and try to explain things as he experienced them for the first time.

      Hannah basked in the sheer awe on her son’s face as she realized that this was the first time Sammy had seen an American fire engine up close. But that shared excitement gave way to an unexpected wobble in Hannah’s stomach.

      Speaking of firsts, she’d also never before witnessed the sight of Isaac Jones in turnout gear. Well, at least, in the yellow pants and red suspenders. It was still unseasonably warm and neither he nor the other three people exiting the huge red truck wore their jackets.

      Whoa. It was bad enough that he’d broken his vow to never visit Sugar Falls again, but since when did the city allow tourists to ride around in the fire engine? Not that he was a typical tourist.

      Still. Isaac had been a summer kid, like her, and since it was now closing in on November, it should be well past time for him to be going back to...where? Where did he live now?

      Mrs. Dunn, the school nurse, bustled past a stunned Hannah and greeted the firefighters. “Sorry you guys had to come out again, Chief. I thought the alarm company had fixed everything yesterday.”

      Who was she calling chief? Certainly not Isaac. Grabbing onto the metal handrail on the stairs in front of the school, Hannah racked her brain for the slightest scrap of recollection about their brief, and extremely awkward, conversation yesterday morning in the Grange Hall kitchen. Last night, she’d gone over every word, facial expression and movement he’d made that day. Had she missed something?

      The blue T-shirt he was wearing was very similar to the one he’d had on at the pancake breakfast. The one she’d assumed he’d gotten from his uncle who led the volunteer crew. Although, this time, Hannah’s eyes zeroed in on the words Chief Jones stenciled in white letters over one of his well-formed pectoral muscles.

       Oh. No.

      Isaac paused only for a second when his gaze landed on her. If Hannah hadn’t already been gawking at him, she would’ve missed it. But he was quick to recover and turned all of his attention toward Nurse Dunn. “You might want to call them out again. In the meantime, have everyone stay here while we go make sure the building is clear.”

      Hannah’s palms were cool and clammy, which must’ve made it easy for Sammy’s fingers to slip out of her hand. Before she could pry her stunned mouth open and stop him, he was bounding down the stairs and sprinting toward Isaac.

      She should’ve expected it. Her son loved big trucks

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