Page 38 of Playing With Fire

A parents’ group, Ricky soon realized, was a friendly if distracted audience. Though surprisingly on task, and apparently able to take in technical information while retrieving children from climbing on chairs and even up the curtain, breaking up fights over toys and helping find the missing pieces of peg board puzzles.

In fact there were more questions than Ricky had expected, some quite detailed and others beyond his scope, and he found himself promising to come back for a follow-up session.

When he finally had time to mingle, he made a beeline straight for Hattie.

Her wide, grateful smile embraced him.

“Thank you so much Ricky.”

She looked around at the adults folding away fire safety pamphlets and talking about where to buy a fire blanket and if anyone knew an electrician who would give a group discount for tagging home appliances.

“You really got these folks thinking about keeping their homes safe. A wonderful idea, especially since parents of young children don’t get much time on the internet or for public information meets.”

He nodded. “I hope I didn’t frighten them, but it’s hard to comprehend how quickly fire spreads. Most fatalities are from smoke inhalation.” He kept his voice light, but Hattie seemed to be able to read his mind.

“Bless you for what you do.” She gripped his hand with cool fingers. “I know that you must see terrible things, so much pain and death. And you bear it so that others don’t have to.”

Ricky froze. Her soft words cut straight through him and he understood why the diminutive preacher drew people to her like moths to a lamp. She understood pain and loss. Understood the burdens that others carried.

The image of Chrissie’s body, curled up like a sleeping child, flashed into his mind. A millisecond later the image was gone, leaving only a lingering sadness, and Ricky felt a surprising lightness—as though some of the weight he bore had evaporated in the warmth of Hattie’s understanding.

She released his hand with a squeeze.

“I love this house. But now I wonder if it’s a firetrap.” Hattie stared around the large, shabby space with its paint-blistered windowsills and uneven floorboards as though wondering if they could even get the windows open in an emergency.

“Silas and I will have an emergency plan in place before the weekend, I promise.”

She fixed her large dark eyes on his face. He breathed in the comforting scents of mashed banana and soap and fried onions. The noise in the room rose and fell, a cacophony of squeals, laughter, and conversation which was surprisingly soothing.

“Silas said that you were talking to the twins, asking them about the fires. I know that they are a bit...feral, but I don’t believe they would endanger or hurt someone deliberately.” A faint tremor crossed her face, as though reliving some long-buried memory. “I have seen evil, Ricky. And there’s no evil in those boys.”

Ricky suddenly hated his job. How many times had he heard those same words from distressed and outraged relatives?

Not my boy/brother/cousin!

Because firebugs generally were male, often young and unhappy, and sometimes plain vengeful.

“But you don’t really know, do you?” he asked gently. He saw the tears well up. She shook her head silently.

Ricky reached out a hand and laid it on her slender arm. “I promise you that I will not upset the twins unnecessarily, and that I won’t do a thing without hard evidence.”

She nodded, took a deep breath. Her smile was shaky but full of trust. If possible, Ricky’s heart sank even further.

Jaime appeared, a small impatient figure tugging at Hattie’s legs. Hattie bent down with a smile and hoisted the small child up.

“Who’s my beautiful baby?” she murmured. Jaime closed her eyes and snuggled against her foster mother’s neck. “I still feel a tug in my heart when this little one up and demands a hug, or when we hear her laugh. When she first came to us, she was the saddest little girl I have ever seen.”

Ricky forced himself not to imagine the hell of losing both parents.

Jaime was safe now. Enfolded in the arms of this loving family. His own child should be this lucky.

“She adores the twins, and the feeling is mutual.” Hattie’s smile was tremulous. Her next words hit Ricky like a gut punch.

“It’s the power of the wounded healer. Never forget that, Ricky.”

Ricky blinked. He looked away for a brief second, struggling for composure. Was he that transparent? Somehow he didn’t see himself doing any healing any time soon.

He cleared his throat. “Do you get a lot of support from the county services—to help with the kids I mean?”

---