Page 61 of Fire and Ice
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Chelsea hummed to herself as she kneaded dough for homemade bread on the countertop while she watched a morning show. Or rather while the TV hosts and their guests rattled on, sounding like nothing more than white noise in the background.
It had been an amazing whirlwind since she had first met Grady. They spent all the time they could together and went out with friends who were becoming mutual friends. They’d gone out with Archer and the girl he was dating, as well as Kyra and her latest man. Kyra was a lot like Chelsea’s sisters—always dating someone new. One day all three of them were bound to settle down, just not likely at the same time.
Chelsea kneaded the dough even faster as she thought of all the fun times they’d had since their first date. And making love to Grady—she could do that every day, multiple times a day, and never get tired of it.
A smile touched her lips as she kneaded the dough. He enjoyed her fresh-baked bread and rolls, so she made sure she had some on hand whenever he was around, which was pretty much daily. He always told her how much he loved them.
Love. She paused for a moment as heat flushed her body. She had no doubt in her mind that she was in love with him—totally, irrefutably, head-over-heels in love. She had loved her husband, but this was different. It was more intense, soul-deep.
She felt the depth of her love in her chest, like a blossoming thing that only grew more powerful every day. It was the kind of love that could devastate her if something went bad. The kind of love that built her up so that she was sky-high—but could also tear her down and destroy her.
The thought made her go still. A shadow crossed her heart, as if something bad would happen. She swallowed. The feeling was so strong she nearly shook from the power of the deep impression it made on her soul.
“What in the world?” She stopped kneading and put her flour-covered fingertips to her temples. Pain pierced her head for a moment, and her vision swam. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.
The last time she had felt like this was the day her husband had died in that mine shaft.
Her heart thudded, and her throat grew dry. A prickling sensation traveled from her scalp to her toes. She tried to shake off the feeling, but it wouldn’t go away.
She raised her chin. “Nothing will or has happened.” She said the words defiantly, but they came out hollow.
The best thing to do was to call Grady, just to calm her ridiculous nerves. Before she could reach for it, the phone rang.
A knot crowded her throat, but then she saw that it was Kyra, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
She answered with a “Hey there,” just as the talking heads on the morning show disappeared to be replaced by footage of homes on fire. Grady’s and Kyra’s homes.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” Kyra started at the same time Chelsea said, “Oh, my God.”
“You know?” Kyra sounded concerned.
Chelsea stared at the screen, watching smoke pouring from the building, and fire reaching for the sky. She could barely speak. “A fire. Your home. On TV.”
“Yes.” Kyra coughed, a deep hacking cough, then rushed on. “Grady’s alive. Spot is all right, too.”
It barely clicked for Chelsea. Kyra had just said, “Grady’s alive.” Why choose those words if something hadn’t gone wrong?
Panic crawled up Chelsea’s throat. “What happened to Grady?” She stared at the TV screen and saw a Dalmatian following a stretcher with a firefighter strapped to it. She knew the man was a firefighter because he had on one of those coats they wore.
Her heart felt like it dropped to her feet. By the unusual horseshoe spot on his rump, she could tell it was definitely Spot who followed the stretcher and paramedics.
“He’s all right,” Kyra’s voice sounded husky with tears. “He saved my life and the lives of others. He was injured, but he’s okay.”
“Where are you? Where is he?” Chelsea gripped the phone tighter, her heart thundering, tears threatening to fall. “I need to know.”
“We’re at the King Creek Hospital.” Kyra coughed again, then gave Chelsea her room number along with Grady’s.
Kyra started to say something else, but Chelsea interrupted her. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m on my way.”
Chelsea disconnected the call and bolted to her bedroom, where she kept her purse. Her heart thundered, and her skin had gone cold even though the house was warm.
Thoughts spun in her mind, taking her back to the past. In her head, she could hear the man on the other end of the line, who had called to tell her that George had died in a mineshaft collapse.
The shock had driven her to her knees. She sat on the floor, listening to the disembodied voice give her his condolences, assuring her that the wheels would be put into motion to ensure she received his insurance check and his last paycheck.
Chelsea hadn’t given a damn about either. She just wanted to have her husband, but nothing could bring him back to her.
