Page 115 of Free to Live
“I got it,Joe. This box is last,” Phil says impatiently.
I’m nervous. I’m going for broke with what’s in this box. I hate that I’m asking her brother to deliver it, but until she’s ready for me to be there, this is the best I can do.
“They’re all numbered,” I remind him again.
“You know, I was going to avoid hitting you. You’re coming close to getting a punch to the stomach just on principle,” Phil grumbles as he slams his trunk closed. A trunk filled to capacity with gifts for the woman I love.
I can’t help what I do next. I kiss the tips of my fingers and lay them on the back of Phil’s car. “That’s from Grace, baby.”
“Jesus, if I didn’t know you loved her before that, I’d know then.” He pauses in his act of mocking me to ask, “How is Grace handling things?”
“Okay. Things are better with Mary’s parents, so that’s helping. I know she’s loving being able to send cards to Holly and knowing they’re helping her heal. She’s getting impatient to see her, but I keep reminding her that little girls have germs we have to be careful of.”
Phil’s lips quirk. “You never know. Girls have a mysterious way of healing themselves.”
My eyes narrow. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Just that the strength of women will surprise you, Joe. I’ll be in touch.”
63
Holly
I’m restless. I take it as a good sign that I’m healing. I need to be doing something, but I can’t because my hands aren’t quite ready for me to tackle more than pulling on or taking off clothes. Jason predicts I should be back at work—at least editing—within another week.
Phil and I made him go back to work. After making sure I’d be okay alone for a few hours, Phil’s taken off on a mysterious errand saying he’d be back soon.
It’s time to face what I had been avoiding up close. The shadows of what was my home.
Slipping into a pair of shoes, I begin to walk down the lane toward the back of the farm. Hopefully, Phil won’t freak when he sees the note I wrote in Sharpie on his kitchen island if he gets back before I do. Somehow, I doubt it, but this is something I need to do on my own.
Going for broke, I turn down the fork which leads toward my house versus Ali and Corinna’s homes.
It’s the deep ruts in the road I notice first. I squat next to one of them. The gravel road which handles our vehicles so easily must have been a challenge for the emergency responders. The depth tells me how long the weight of those red engines sat here, the men and women inside them using every bit of their strength and determination to put out the flames before they could jump into the tree line and threaten Ali or Corinna. I walk farther. Even from this vantage point, I can see some blackening behind the house where my porch used to be.
The fire started in a malfunctioning timer. It isn’t anyone’s fault. Standing here in the ruins of my home, I can only be grateful I was even home. “What would have happened to my family if I wasn’t here to call 9-1-1?” I wonder aloud.
“I don’t know for sure. We don’t like for people who have been rescued to think about what-ifs in our business,” a voice I know well comes from behind me. Spinning in surprise, I’m confronted with misty eyes in a face that’s seen too many fires. Joe’s father.
Tears begin to track down my face. “I’m so sorry. I made a mistake. I was…” Helplessly, I spin around. “I don’t know how to apologize for everything I’ve done.”
“What? For being human? For having a heart that was hurt? You sure as hell had better not be apologizing for being trapped in a fire that you were a victim of.”
“I’m sorry for pushing everyone away,” I get out. “I just…I just…”
“You needed to heal from too many blows,” Joe’s father tells me wisely. I nod.
“Yes.”
“You’ve got what it takes to go the distance, Holly.” I twist around to look at him, confused.
“What do you mean?”
“Even though you were hurt by my son, you still stepped out on the ledge and were willing to risk your heart to be loved. That’s the kind of woman a fireman needs at his side. This isn’t a career where the people we love don’t stumble. But the most important thing to know is that they’ll let us pick us up when they do.” Chief comes directly over to me and cups my chin in his hands. “Are you ready for him to help you up now?”
I take a deep breath and look over at the remains of my house. They’re just things. Every photo that was hanging in there is backed up about six different ways from Sunday. And the memories, well, those are all in my head. I’ll never forget the first time Joe made love to me in my bed. I’ll always remember Grace crawling between us because she got scared sleeping in a new house.
Those are the things you take with you wherever you go. All that matters is the people you’re with.
