Page 78 of The Blessings of Christmas
“There, there.” Her mother gently squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure Connor’s all right. He wouldn’t be so foolish.”
“Yes, he would.” If anyone would dash back into the fire to save a dog, it would be her husband. Skin prickling with nerves, she jumped up. ”I have to go to the firehouse. I can’t just sit here.”
“But it’s so cold out and it’s snowing. Can’t you call?” Her mother followed her into the hallway where her father was already reaching for his own jacket and then her coat.
Face stern, her dad grabbed the keys from the hall table. “Donna, let me handle this. We’ll be back in two shakes.”
Her mother’s face paled, her lips forming a thin, tight line. “We’ll be back soon, Mom.” Amanda rushed out, her father right behind her.
Outside, their breaths plumed on the cold night air. “Dad, my car is behind yours. Want to drive?” She fumbled in her purse for the keys and handed them to her father. No way was she driving. Walking had become a chore, let alone driving. Within minutes, they were headed for the station.
Familiar streets whizzed past, a blur in the darkness. Tonight, nothing looked the same. Except for his heavy breathing, her dad was very quiet. His eyes were trained on the road under what she called his “geezer hat” for cold weather. Shivering in her new wool coat, she choked out directions.
Thewhat if’sclamored in her mind.
What ifthat missing fireman was Connor?
CHAPTER 5
Amanda teetered on the brink of disaster. Life without Connor? Unthinkable. Nothing else mattered anymore. Not the baby, the fertility treatments– what could be more important than Connor?
If she couldn’t see those warm brown eyes come through the door every night, what good was anything? If she couldn’t curl into Connor’s arms, cup his square chin in her hand, what would anything else matter?
“We’ll get the bottom of this, Amanda.” Her father broke the silence. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Connor will be fine. He’s a very capable young man.” Her father expelled a ragged breath that didn’t comfort her.
All around them, tidy brick homes were festooned with red and green lights, but Amanda’s mind flat-lined at gray. By the time they reached the neighborhood where the firehouse was located, Amanda had started to bargain.
Just give me back yesterday.
She would take it, no questions asked. Without children, without a big house, with students that often made her crazy. That’s what she wanted. Yesterday’s life. She wouldn’t ask for anything more. Yesterday, Connor had looked at her as if shewere beautiful. Made her feel loved. She ached to be in his arms, taut muscles against her, stubbly chin grazing her cheek.
Biting down hard on her lower lip, she would not cry. But the road blurred in front of their headlights. Her dad had never been much for words. Now every jerk of the wheel, every clearing of his throat told her how nervous he was. When they reached the station, he squealed to a halt and put the car in park so fast her head snapped. “Sorry, honey. Not used to your shift.” He stared at the gearshift in his hand as if wondering how it got there.
“That’s okay, Daddy.” Amanda shoved her door open and it wedged into a mound of solid snow.
“Let me pull up,” her dad fumed, more to himself than to anyone. “Darn snow.”
The car was still rolling forward when Amanda hopped out.
Please, just give me Connor and yesterday.
I’ll never ask for a baby or anything else.
Her boots skidded on the icy walk. Finding her footing, she kept going, every icy breath searing her throat. The door of the fire station was up, and bright lights illuminated the interior.One of the trucks had returned, and the guys were hosing it down. Water pooled on the floor and damp mist clung to her skin. She marched in and grabbed the T-shirt of Will O’Malley, the first man she met.
“Will, where is Connor?”
Will stared at her from raccoon eyes left from the mask. “Connor? On the other truck, Amanda.”
Her grip tightened on his shirt. “Is he all right?”
“Ask him yourself.” He jutted an elbow in the direction of the street. Another truck was rumbling in, coughing as if it had inhaled too much smoke.
When Amanda saw Connor at the wheel, she swallowed a sob so big it hurt her throat. Wives of firefighters didn’t cry.Loosening her hold on poor Will, she dashed fingers under each eye. Coming up behind her, her dad clapped one hand on her shoulder. She squeezed his hand but she wanted Connor. She inched forward while the soot-streaked truck pulled into an empty bay.
Jumping down and coming round the truck, Connor looked like he’d just escaped from a war zone. His red-rimmed eyes widened. “Amanda? What are you doing here?”
“Connor.” She threw herself against him, reveling in the rubbery feel of his heavy coat, the smell of smoke, and the rasp of his beard on her forehead.
