LITMIR.BIZ

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first instinct was to grab his arm and hold tight to stop him, yet she knew that would be foolish. This was what he did, what he’d trained for. Interfering was very wrong, no matter how scared she was for his well-being.

      “I have to. I’ll be all right.” His gaze rested for an instant on the child in her arms. “Just take good care of Timmy for me.”

      “I—I will.”

      As Mitch jogged away, Jill felt a burgeoning concern that left her weak in the knees. It wasn’t only the firefighters she was worried about. She’d realized belatedly whose house this was. The Pearsons were members of Serenity Chapel as well as close friends of Mitch, so the adults he was still searching for must be the children’s parents, Rob and Ellen. How hard this must be for poor Mitch—for all the local firefighters and police.

      Her arms ached from holding on to the struggling boy, but she persevered. Right now, the most important thing was getting him away from the scene, keeping him safe and reuniting him with his younger siblings.

      “Let me go!” the boy shouted. “Let me go.”

      “No. Sorry. I can’t.”

      Jill knew there would be no reasoning with the child while he was so agitated. Keeping her replies calm and consistent was the best—the only—thing she could do.

      It was trials such as this that her own childhood had prepared her for. That was why she’d volunteered as a foster parent in the first place, why she never said she was too busy or too financially strapped to take in another homeless, helpless waif.

      It was her duty.

      She’d trained for it by merely living the life she’d been handed.

      Forced by the heat and flames to retreat or die, Mitch finally ordered his men to back off. Other teams had made access from the rear of the building so there was a chance one of them had successfully located the Pearsons. If not, there was nothing else anyone could do.

      “Chief?” he radioed. “Any report on the adults from the house?”

      “Negative. They thought they had one around back but it was just a nosy bystander getting too close.”

      “Copy.”

      As the fire continued to gobble up everything in its path, Mitch tried hard to keep from thinking about the people who might still be inside. There was nothing anyone could do for them at this point and he had a job to finish. A job he counted as a God-given assignment.

      Suddenly, a wild-eyed woman in her thirties lurched toward him out of the haze and confusion. Her reddish hair was mussed, her short, white jacket sooty.

      Under the circumstances, Mitch didn’t pause to consider who she might be, he simply held out his arms to block her access to the disaster. “You can’t go any closer, ma’am. It’s too dangerous.”

      “Where is she?” the newcomer screeched, leaning to peer past him at the ongoing destruction of the office and home. “Where’s my sister?”

      Mitch gritted his teeth. Now he understood. “You’re Ellen’s sister, Natalie, aren’t you?”

      “Of course I am. Get out of my way.”

      Ignoring the rolling of her eyes and her look of disdain, he shook his head slowly, sadly. “I’m sorry. We haven’t been able to locate Ellen or Rob.”

      Instead of swooning or weeping as he’d expected, the woman began to scream, curse and pound him with her fists. “Well go find her! Don’t just stand there, you idiot! Do something! Go back and look again!”

      He did his best to fend off the blows without harming his attacker. A female sheriff’s deputy noticed the one-sided altercation and quickly came to his rescue.

      “This is the sister of the property owner,” Mitch explained as the deputy restrained the panic-stricken woman. “Maybe she can wait in your car? Try to get control of herself?”

      “Sure. No sweat. Sheriff Allgood’s wife rode along with him. She can look after this lady for us.”

      Nodding, Mitch paused for only an instant before returning to the tasks at hand. His heart was heavy. He could certainly identify with the hysterical woman but he didn’t dare give in to his personal feelings.

      What he needed to do right now was concentrate on his job so he’d have less time to dwell on the loss of his friends. Or on the fact that there were probably three new orphans in town, he thought, clenching his teeth. How could a loving God have let any of this happen?

      “Forgive me, Lord,” he whispered as he gazed at the scene of destruction through stinging eyes. “And while You’re at it, help us all accept life without Rob and Ellen if they are truly gone. It’s not going to be easy. Especially not for those kids.”

      TWO

      Dozens of people continued to mill around the disaster scene, speaking mostly in whispers—awed, curious and yet horrified.

      After wrapping Timmy in a gray blanket one of the bystanders had given her, Jill crouched, held the boy’s hands, spoke softly and continued to try to comfort him. It seemed he either didn’t hear her or had no intention of paying the slightest attention. Perhaps a little of both.

      Pastor’s wife, Becky Malloy, was perched on the open tailgate of a nearby pickup, cradling sleepy, eighteen-month-old Megan. Elderly Miss Violet Hanford, another member of both the fire department auxiliary and Serenity Chapel, rocked and soothed five-year-old Paul inside the cab of the same vehicle.

      Timmy was most likely in shock rather than ill, Jill kept assuring herself. Nevertheless, as soon as one of the EMTs was available she intended to ask for professional advice.

      In the meantime, there was nothing to do but keep an eye—and a hand—on him to make sure he didn’t bolt. She figured she could have caught him if he’d tried to run under normal circumstances, but as emotionally overwrought as he was tonight, she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t be able to elude her if he wanted to.

      Suddenly, his brown eyes widened. She felt his thin fingers tighten around hers. There was so much smoke in the air she wasn’t sure if she was seeing tears of sorrow or if his eyes were watering because of the constant irritation.

      She returned the squeeze and chanced a smile. “What is it, honey? Would you like to go sit in the truck with your brother? I’m sure it’s much warmer in there.”

      Tim moved his head back and forth so rapidly his shaggy, uncombed brown hair swung like her little lapdog Mugsy’s fur did when he shook himself after a bath.

      Concerned, Jill leaned closer. “What’s wrong? Tell me how I can help you.”

      Instead of answering, the boy tore his hand from hers and threw the coarse blanket off his shoulders. For an instant she was afraid he intended to flee. Then, he launched himself at her and wrapped both arms around her neck. The force of the unexpected tackle knocked her onto her back pockets in the dirt.

      Timmy immediately scrambled aside, grabbed her wrist with both hands and tried to haul her to her feet. Although he wasn’t speaking, she could hear whining, shuddery noises coming from deep in his small chest.

      “It’s okay,” Jill said. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” She got up and began to dust off her jeans with her free hand. “See? No problem.”

      Still, the little boy wasn’t pacified. Instead of continuing to face her, however, he ducked behind her legs. That was what finally made her realize someone else was approaching. She recognized the puffy-eyed, disheveled woman as the one who had attacked Mitch earlier in the evening and braced herself to counter the same kind of irrational behavior.

      It was the lost expression on the woman’s tear-streaked face that softened Jill’s attitude and caused her to offer proper condolences. “I’m so sorry. You’re Natalie Stevens, aren’t you? I’m Jill. We met in church.

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