A Small Town Christmas Part 86

Now the silence went on for so long Zach wondered if the connection had been lost.

"Dad?"

"We're separated."

"I'm sorry," Zach said.

And he truly was. The old man couldn't seem to catch a break. Maybe the fact that he was making a habit of allowing Mom to haunt his life like the Ghost of Christmas Past had something to do with why wife number three had left him to ring in the holidays by himself.

It had been only three years ago that Zach had attended his father's wedding-a catered affair at the home of Dad's new in-laws, who were all of six years older than Dad. The champagne had flowed right along with the good wishes. The bride had looked at Dad like he was some kind of paperback hero, and Zach had hoped for the best. Apparently he'd hoped in vain.

Most people did. True love was myth.

"Oh, well. You know we really weren't right together," Dad said philosophically. "No one's ever been right for me but your mother."

Obviously Mom hadn't agreed. Zach frowned.

"When you find the right woman, son, hold on to her." The ice tinkled. "That's all I'm saying."

Zach sincerely hoped so. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. "Well, here's hoping the new year will be better for you."

"My life's in the toilet, son. How'd you say your mother is?"

"She's fine." She's moved on. You should, too.

"And how are you?"

Oh, boy. "I'm fine, Dad."

"Are you going to come see me this summer?"

Didn't they just have this conversation? "Sure."

"Maybe we should go to Australia and see your brother. Three bachelors living it up down under, eh?"

Picking up women in Australia with his father-there was a visual Zach was going to have trouble losing. "That's a thought," he said diplomatically. By morning Dad wouldn't even remember he'd called, let alone what they'd talked about. Thank G.o.d. "Listen, Dad. I'm on duty. I'd better go."

"Go? Oh, yeah. Sure. Well, Merry Christmas, son. Don't forget you're coming to see me this summer."

"I won't," Zach promised.

By summer Dad would probably be getting married again and Zach would find himself at another garden wedding. Poor Dad. Did Mom have any idea what she'd done to him?

Probably not. Maybe she never meant to hurt him. Maybe they were drifting apart long before they split. Except they'd seemed fine. Everything had seemed fine ... until it wasn't.

Who knew what happened to anyone? People started out madly in love and then just wound up hurting each other. To get serious with anyone was asking for trouble. There was always somebody in the equation who messed things up. That thought opened the door for more unpleasant thoughts and visions of a not-so-good Christmas future, so Zach gave himself a mental shake and went in search of distraction.

Ray had popped in the DVD of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and the guys were settled around the TV with store-bought Christmas cookies and popcorn. Some laughs, some downtime with his buddies-perfect. Just what he needed. He helped himself to some popcorn and settled in a chair for what he hoped would be a quiet night. After the conversation with his father he needed it.

The night was quiet until the call came in at ten.

The Klaxon went off, shooting everybody off the couch like human fireworks. Then the information from CenCom came in over the intercom and it went through Zach like a bolt of electricity.

Men grabbed their self-contained breathing apparatus and their personal protective equipment and raced for the truck. Meanwhile the printer spat out the information, proof in black-and-white that Zach hadn't imagined what he'd just heard.

In a matter of seconds they were on the truck and roaring down the street, battling the clock as well as the blaze, knowing it took only eight minutes for a house fire to spread from one room to another.

Adrenaline was not normally a factor. After a man had been doing this for a while, he concentrated on working with his team and getting the job done in the most efficient manner possible. Get the details, get the engine in place and the hose hooked up.

This time was different, though. Zach's adrenaline was flowing like a raging river as the truck roared across town, siren blasting. He knew the address where they were going. Still, he kept thinking, Not my family. Oh, G.o.d, not my family. Suddenly it didn't matter that his mom had turned his childhood upside down and married someone new, that another man had moved into his life and then moved them all in different directions. All that mattered was to get everyone out alive.

By the time the truck arrived fire was chewing up the east side of the house where the bedrooms were located. The neighborhood was all dressed up for Christmas, with lights on the houses and wreaths on the doors. A light snowfall was beginning to dust the ground. The blazing house made a mockery of the holiday scene. Flames licked the night sky and sparks flew dizzily from the smoke, arcing out like tiny demons.

A crowd of people had gathered on the street, many still in their holiday best, others with coats thrown on over bathrobes. Zach quickly spotted Mom and Kendra and Natalie. They were still dressed, wrapped in blankets and huddled together, holding each other and crying while a well-meaning neighbor attempted to console Mom by patting her shoulder.

But where was Al? Where the h.e.l.l was Al?

FOURTEEN.

At the sight of the truck, Zach's mother left the girls and raced up to him. Tears were making a crooked river down her soot-streaked face. Her hair was wild. So were her eyes. "Al's not here!"

Oh, G.o.d. Zach was going to be sick. Do your job, he told himself.

He let Daniel the company officer intercept her. It was Daniel's job to get that kind of information and form a plan of attack. "Where is he at?" Daniel asked Mom as Zach and the others donned their gear and covered their necks and ears with protective fluid to s.h.i.+eld themselves from flash burns.

"I don't know. He went to get the cat."

Into the house? He went back in for the cat? What had he been thinking? Never run back inside when your house is on fire.

Daniel immediately began calling in vital information. "Single family dwelling, ten-zero-seven P.M. Two-story, wood frame. Fire on the first extending to the second. Possible rescue..."

A million thoughts banged at Zach's brain as he donned his gear and grabbed his ax and fire extinguisher.

What am I going to find when I get inside the house? Al dead in there? Unconscious? If only I'd traded with someone and gotten Christmas Eve off I could have prevented this.

The wild thoughts were counterproductive. Once more, he pushed them away and went to work. Ray, as engineer, was staying with the truck, taking care of the water supply, and Julio was already stretching a line. The medics were in place and the ladder truck had arrived. As Zach raced for the house he could see his pals Pete and Jason out of the corner of his eye, preparing to go up the roof and cut holes in it.

Zach had just reached the front porch when Al staggered around the side of the house, coughing and carrying Queenie. Thank G.o.d, he thought, as he helped his stepfather away from the blazing ruin that once was his home. Al would be spending Christmas in the hospital, the house would be unlivable for months and its contents ruined by smoke, but the family was alive. They'd be all right. Holding firmly to that belief, Zach entered the house, Daniel now right behind him.

The inside was an inferno, filled with angry flames bent on destruction. Within five minutes Zach was sweating inside his protective gear like a pig roasting over a spit. The stairs collapsed like a child's tower of blocks. He moved quickly and carefully, putting out the flame. Memory raced across his mind, showing Natalie and Kendra, a little first-grader and a preschooler, running eagerly downstairs ahead of him on Christmas morning. Santa came! Come on, Zachie. Hurry! Ancient history, but now important history.

He and Daniel finally stopped the last fiery tongues before they could devour the kitchen and family room. The rest of the house was toast.

It only took minutes to subdue the flames. It would take hours to do salvage and overhaul and investigate the area of origination. That wasn't Zach's job, but since his engine was the first on the scene, they'd still be the last ones out.

When the worst was over, he took a minute to check on his family. Al was long gone, whisked away by the ambulance, and Mom was trying to comfort the Steps, who were both crying.

"It's all my fault," wailed Natalie. "I forgot about my scented candle. It must have caught my curtains on fire."

"If we hadn't all been watching Miracle on 34th Street in the family room we'd have been dead," said Kendra. She s.h.i.+vered and rubbed her arms and Natalie sobbed harder.

Mom hugged them both close. "But we're not. We're all together and that's the main thing."

"You guys can stay at my place," Zach told his mom. "There's a spare key under that rock by the back porch."

"I'll get the girls settled and then go to the hospital," said Mom. Her voice was steady but she looked like she'd aged ten years.

Zach gave her a hug. "I'll be home day after tomorrow."

"Oh no, you won't," said his battalion chief. "You're off after we get done here. Spend some time with your family."

Amazingly, that sounded like a great idea.

No one got to bed before two A.M., so Zach had been sure Mom and the Steps would sleep the sleep of the dead. He hadn't figured on his mother prowling the house. He'd given her his bedroom and the Steps and Queenie were in Gram's old bra.s.s bed in the other room, while Zach sacked out on the couch in the living room with Tom curled up at his feet. But off and on he'd heard the faint creak of floorboards upstairs. At six he'd heard his mother slip downstairs and pad into the kitchen. The light didn't go on, though. Instead, she sat there in the dark. At six thirty he gave up and joined her.

She blinked and looked guilty when he walked into the room and flipped on the light. "Did I wake you?"

"Nah." She looked so forlorn. And alone. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, a gesture that felt both foreign and right. She smelled like his body wash. He made a mental note to pick up some girl stuff for her and the Steps. And some more body wash for himself. Between his mother and his stepsisters, they'd go through everything he had in a hurry. Natalie had taken two showers before she finally crashed, claiming she could still smell smoke. He'd heard her in there sobbing as the water ran.

Mom put a hand to his face, maybe to see if he was really there or if she'd imagined what just happened. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Hey, I wasn't going to leave you out on the street."

"No, for..." Her voice failed her and she looked at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap.

"You should try and get some more sleep," he said gently. He knew it was a futile suggestion. She wasn't going to be able to sleep any easier than Nat was going to be able to forgive herself.

She shook her head. "I can't. I..." She stopped, obviously choking on emotion, and shook her head.

Zach had seen the faces of stricken fire victims before, but they'd always been a sad blur on the sidelines as he raced to save what he could of their homes. This was different, a punch to the gut.

He sat down opposite her and reached across the table to take her hand. "Al's going to be okay. You know that, right?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "I'm thankful we're alive, but it's all so hard to process. I don't even know where to start. I'm concerned about Natalie, that she won't be able to forgive herself."

"It was an accident," Zach said. "Accidents happen."

"That's easy to say when you're not the one responsible." Mom rubbed her forehead.

"I've got ibuprofin," Zach offered.

She shook her head. "I found it. I've already taken two. Zach." She bit her lip, watching him with teary eyes. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Five little words, but they flooded Zach with a tidal wave of emotions so strong he thought his chest would crack open-everything from anger to yearning, vindication to shame. "Oh, Mom." What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to think?

"I don't blame you for not wanting anything to do with me. I wish I could redo the last fifteen years."

Fifteen? Longer than that. She needed to start the clock ticking from when she threw Dad out. Zach rubbed his aching head.

"Every time I called you were so angry. I just ... stopped. I was a coward. And I was a rotten mother to you."

There it was, what he'd been waiting to hear for years. It should have made him feel better but it only made him want to bawl like a baby.

"Oh, Zach, I wish I could hit rewind. I'd do so many things different."

Now she was crying in earnest, her grief so strong it was an ocean that threatened to drown them both. Zach knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her. "It's okay, Mom." Was it? He didn't even know at this point but it was all he could think to say. He, too, wished they could hit rewind, but the only way open to them was forward.

Maybe forward wasn't such a bad direction to go.

She got herself under control and managed a watery smile. "You grew into a wonderful man. I'm happy for that."

The observation didn't sit comfortably. "I think we need some breakfast," he decided.

She started to get up but he waved her back into her seat. "I can handle it. What do you want?"

"Just coffee."

"Coffee and eggs," Zach decided, and got to work. "It's going to be a long day."

She sighed. "I suspect it's going to be a succession of long days."

Breakfast was silent, a time of recovery from the emotional storm they'd just survived. Afterward his mother went upstairs to shower and dress.

Another hour crawled past, and Zach found himself feeling very much at loose ends. He loaded the dishes, he walked back to the couch and thumbed through a magazine, he paced. And as he paced he looked around his house. There was nothing here that said Christmas. Was that good or bad?

By nine, one of his mom's friends had swept her off to the hospital to see Al, and Kendra had surfaced. Zach knew as he watched his stepsister looking around with a trembling lip that the day was not starting well, but he had no idea how to make it better.

"Want some coffee?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

She nodded and followed him out to the kitchen and opened a cupboard in search of a mug. "Over here," he said, opening a door and grabbing one for her.

She thanked him and took it, poured herself some coffee. "Where's Angie?"

The Steps had never called his mother "Mom," just like he'd never called Al "Dad." They'd never been the Brady Bunch. Was it too late to try? "She went to see your dad at the hospital."

Kendra frowned. "She should have waited. I'd have gone with her." Now she was gnawing on a corner of her lower lip, and Zach knew exactly what she was thinking.

"He's going to be okay," he said.

She dropped onto a chair and scowled at him like it was somehow his fault her father was in the hospital. "How do you know? How do you know he's not going to get emphysema or something because of this?"