Trial by Fire

  He had to stay, if for no other reason than to let her know she wasn’t alone. It seemed critically important that he get that message through to her.

  When she finished throwing up, he stroked her hair again. “Issie, do you want to go back to the bed?”

  She nodded, and he helped her up. When she almost fell again, he steadied her and walked her into the bedroom. He helped her onto the bed, covered her with the quilt, then backed away.

  “You gonna be okay?” he asked.

  She didn’t say a word, just closed her eyes as if she was sleeping again.

  He tried to kneel beside the bed, but the pain in his shins stopped him. Instead, he bent down and touched her face with the back of his fingers. “I’m going downstairs,” he said. “But you call if you need me. I’ll be right here, okay?”

  She nodded but didn’t speak. Slowly, he left the room, but left her door open so he could hear her.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Word about Issie’s condition at Joe’s Place spread like pollen, coating the conversations of everyone in Newpointe by noon the next day. And even greater news was the fact that Nick Foster had been the one who’d come to get her.

  Issie had been the subject of gossip before and tried to ignore it the best she could. But as always, it did bother her. She hated herself for making such a spectacle of herself, and wondered what had made her do such a stupid thing. The fact that Cruz hadn’t come along when she was vulnerable was sheer luck, she told herself. If she kept it up, she wouldn’t be able to get Aunt Aggie or Nick to help her anymore.

  Jake still hadn’t been found, and Cruz and his buddies were still at large. Despite her hangover, she couldn’t stay at home, not with somebody out to kill her and nothing to do about it. She might as well be working. Her seven-to-three shift came too early to endure with a hangover, but she managed to function. Steve was bad about swapping shifts to accommodate his softball games, his hunting, and his fishing. Some days he wanted to work late, others he wanted to work early. Issie tried to keep her schedule matched with his, because they were so used to working together.

  Fortunately, today was a slow day. Forced to sit in their rescue unit at the Walmart parking lot—a central location in town from which they could reach most locations quickly—she and Steve usually passed the time listening to music and making up stories about the people walking by.

  But today, Steve was more interested in Issie’s story of the night before. “So what are you trying to do?” he asked. “Ruin the preacher?”

  She shot him a look. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean everybody in town knows that he practically spent the night with you last night.”

  “He did not spend the night with me,” she said. “We were both guests in Aunt Aggie’s home, on separate floors, for Pete’s sake.”

  “And you just happened to be drunk, and you want me to think that you didn’t throw yourself at him?”

  “Throw myself?” She wanted to get out of the rescue unit and hitchhike home, but she knew she had to stay. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  He leaned his head back on his seat and stared out the windshield. “Issie, I know you love living dangerously, but stay away from the preacher. A lot of people value him in this town. The last thing those people need after losing their church is to lose their preacher too. Or even their respect for him.”

  “They’re not going to lose respect for their preacher,” she said. “He’s a nice guy. He was helping me.”

  “Find somebody else to help you, Issie.”

  Issie fought the anger boiling inside her. “You know, you really ought to mind your own business,” she said. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s not even your church. He’s not your preacher so you don’t have to defend his honor.”

  “All I’m saying is that I know how you work. Nick Foster is not who you need to be chasing.”

  “What makes you think I’m chasing him?” she asked.

  “The rumor is that he’s the one they called to come get you last night.”

  “Well, I didn’t have anything to do with that decision.”

  “There’s also a rumor says you called him yourself when you got shot at and had that wreck.”

  That was true and she couldn’t deny it. “I felt like I might be dead by the time the night was over. You’d call a preacher too.”

  “I just hope you don’t have anything up your sleeve. Remember Mark Branning?”

  “Nobody’s ever going to let me forget that! I don’t have anything up my sleeve, Steve! Who did you want me to call? You? You were probably at home watching the Brady Bunch with your cute little wife and your darling little children. You probably would have checked the caller ID and seen that it was me and decided not to answer.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Steve said.

  “Of course you would,” she said. “Every time I’ve ever called you at home I’ve gotten the machine.”

  “I’m a busy guy.”

  “I called someone that I thought would be home and I thought would respond. And I was right. He did help me. He stayed with me the whole time and solved the problem of where I was going to stay. What’s wrong with that?”

  “What’s wrong with it is that Nick Foster has enough problems without you in his life right now.”

  His scathing indictment crushed her. She tried not to cry. “So what am I, a piranha?” she asked.

  “No offense,” he said, “but a lot of people do think of you that way.”

  “Oh, give me a break,” she said. “I thought you were my friend.”

  He stared at her, silence passing between them, then finally he said, “I am your friend, Issie. That’s why I’m giving you good advice. I hope you’ll take it.”

  “I don’t need your advice about Nick.”

  A call came through on the radio, and they both came to attention. There was a wreck on Jacquard Boulevard and someone was claiming whiplash.

  Steve started the unit and radioed that they were on their way. There wasn’t more time to talk, and Issie decided to push her anger to the back of her mind. She didn’t have a defense after all, and she knew that Steve was probably right.

  Besides, there was nothing like working an accident to get her mind off of her own problems.

  When they got to the scene of the accident, Issie was surprised to see Nick there. She hadn’t expected to see him there with those bandages still on his legs. But there he was, dressed in complete uniform, helping Mark, Dan, and George assess the damage to the car.

  The passengers were all standing on the sidewalk, and it was clear from her first glance that no one was injured. Still, she got out of the unit with Steve, found the woman who claimed her neck was sore, and began to evaluate her symptoms.

  When she’d gotten the neck brace on her, she looked up and saw Nick watching her. She hadn’t seen him this morning. He’d been gone when she’d gotten up, and now she had trouble looking him in the eye.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  She shrugged and stood up. “Oh, a little mortified. And my head feels like it’s been run over fourteen times.” She looked up at him, trying to change the subject. “What about you? I didn’t think you’d get a medical release until your lungs and burns healed.”

  “I’m just on office duty,” he said. “I came on the call in the capacity of chaplain. There are some things I can still do.”

  “Well, you be careful,” she said.

  “I will. But what about you? You’re not planning a trip to Joe’s Place tonight, are you?”

  She blinked back the mist in her eyes and looked into the wind. “Nick, I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry. And no, I’m not going back tonight. I’m ashamed to show my face.”

  He just stared down at her as if processing that thought, and she wondered what he was thinking. Dan called from the fire truck a few yards down the road, and Nick waved.

  “Well, guess I’ll see you a little later. You take c
are, okay?” He dipped his face to her ear, and whispered, “And next time call me before you get into trouble.”

  She looked up at him, and their eyes met and held for a moment, a moment that was full of unspoken words. Issie wondered if his thoughts were anything like hers. She was getting too attached to him, and that was dangerous. As Steve had said, the last thing Nick Foster needed in his life was Issie Mattreaux. Maybe she needed to do what he said and back off. Maybe the greatest act of gratitude she could offer him was to cut all ties with him before her heart was any more entangled.

  Then she told herself that she was kidding herself if she thought Nick had given her a second thought. She wasn’t his type, and she never would be. Nick was one of those rare white knights, but white knights never went for damsels like her.

  As the firefighters drove back to the fire station, Mark, Dan, and George were quiet. Nick knew what they were thinking, but he didn’t want to give them the chance to voice it.

  Finally, as they pulled into the truck bay at midtown station, Dan looked back over his shoulder. “You’re playing with fire, Nick.”

  Nick had seen it coming, so he didn’t flinch. “Dan, there’s nothing going on.”

  “I saw something going on,” Mark said. “I saw the way she looked at you. Don’t underestimate her power, Nick. She’s trapped me with it before.”

  “Oh, man!” Nick said. “You trapped yourself. You got wrapped up in lust and started going to the bar with her and the next thing you knew, your marriage was on the rocks.”

  Mark looked at him as if he couldn’t believe he had said those words. Nick had never been that bold with him. There had been many conversations between them about lust and temptation, but Nick had never looked Mark in the eye and told him he had been to blame.

  Instantly, Nick regretted it. “I’m sorry, Mark. Look, I know you never had an affair with her. I know you rectified things before they got out of hand. But I’m just telling you that it’s not all her fault. She’s been a victim some too.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in victimhood,” Dan said. “If I recall, you’ve said that people make victimhood an excuse for sin.”

  “I don’t believe in overlooking sin so that we can justify anything we ever choose to do,” Nick said. “But I’ve prayed a lot about her. I’ve wanted to reach her. I’ve never been able to. And lately she’s been through a lot. For some reason, I’m the one that keeps getting called to help her. Now, you tell me. As a preacher, as a Christian, as a human being, what would you do if someone called you and told you they were in trouble?”

  “If it was Issie Mattreaux,” Dan said, “I think I’d pass.”

  “Well, I can’t pass,” Nick said. “I’ve thought about what people would say and what they would think. And then I’ve realized that I have to care more about her soul than my reputation. And if people want to think the worst about me, then they might as well go ahead. It’s not like I have a lot to lose.”

  “Of course you have a lot to lose,” Dan said. “You’re still our preacher. We didn’t fire you.”

  “No, but someone fired the church,” he said. “It’s not there anymore, guys. Wake up.”

  “There’s still a church,” Mark said. “There are still people who want to worship. They want you to lead them in that. You’re our shepherd, Nick. Don’t let her lead you off in another direction. You aren’t immune just because you’re a man of God.”

  Nick didn’t say anything. He just got out of the truck and slammed the door as he went into the station.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  No one expected to see Ray drive up that afternoon and go into his office without saying a word to anyone. They hadn’t expected him back for at least another week.

  Nick stood at the edge of the truck bay, looking out at the trailer parked between the fire department and police station, and wondered if he should go talk to Ray. Dan came up behind him and set his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “He needs to talk, man.”

  Nick nodded. “I’m not sure he needs to talk to me. I never can think what to say when I’m around him. It’s like all my experience goes out the window, all the Scripture, all the wisdom God’s ever given me, and I just stand there, speechless and angry that Ben is dead.”

  “Man, I do even worse than that,” Dan said. “You’re his preacher, his chaplain, and his friend.”

  “I’m also the one who found Ben’s body.”

  “He knows you tried to save him.”

  Nick nodded, hoping that was true. He slid his hands into his pockets and walked slowly across the freshly cut lawn to the door of Ray’s office. He knocked, but there was no answer, so Nick turned the knob and pushed the door open.

  Ray sat in the dark at his desk. “I didn’t say come in.”

  Nick came in anyway. “I just wanted to tell you it’s good to see you back.”

  Ray rubbed his face and nodded wearily. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I ain’t seen a medical release.”

  “Well, I’m not officially back,” Nick said. “Just office duty. I figured with you out, I could take up some of the slack. I didn’t have anything to do what with the church gone and all. Plus, I figured with the two murders, somebody in protective services might be needing a chaplain.”

  “Well, I better not catch you fightin’ a fire. With those injuries you’re liable to get in somebody’s way and cost ’em their life. We’ve had enough death.” He dropped his hands to the desk. “How are you feelin’, anyway?”

  “I’m okay. Getting better all the time.”

  “I’ve had burns like that before, Nick. You ain’t kiddin’ nobody. They don’t heal up in four days.”

  “Well, I appreciate your concern.” He looked down at his feet and sought to change the subject. “Have you heard about the church service we’re having Sunday out on Aunt Aggie’s lawn?”

  Ray nodded. “Heard somethin’ about it. I don’t know if we’ll be there.”

  Nick felt that personal stab of failure again. “Ray, don’t turn your back on God. You need him now. Susan and Vanessa need him. Come back and let us help you heal.”

  “I don’t want to heal.” His voice broke, and he covered his face.

  Nick didn’t know whether to get up and go to him, or let him suffer alone. He cleared his throat. “I know,” Nick told him. “That’s a common feeling. You just want to grieve, you want to feel the pain, you want to hang on to it because it’s kind of like hanging on to the person.”

  “Don’t tell me what I feel,” Ray said. “You don’t know what I feel. I don’t know anybody who knows how I feel.”

  Nick’s mouth trembled as he tried to say the right thing. “You’re right. I don’t. There’s no way I could.”

  “He had his whole life ahead of him, Nick!” Ray bellowed. “His whole life. He was gon’ be somebody.”

  “Ray, he is somebody. In case there’s ever been a moment’s doubt in your mind about Ben’s salvation, I mean…I want you to know that I’ve prayed with him, talked with him myself. He cared about the Lord. I know he’s in heaven.”

  Ray broke down again, and finally Nick got up and came around his desk. He leaned over his friend and put his arms around him. Ray fell into him and cried the tears of a broken man. “You can do this, Ray,” Nick said. “We don’t grieve as those who have no hope. This is not the end for you and Ben.”

  “Feels like the end,” Ray said.

  Nick just held his friend and let him grieve as he hadn’t been able to do before.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Nick was emotionally spent by the time he left Ray’s office just after three, so he decided to go home. He got out of his car and looked across the street to the church that had been such a fixture in his life for so long now. It was odd to see the rubble piled on the property that had once been donated by someone who loved the Lord. He couldn’t believe it was all wasted now.

  He crossed the street and went to stand in the center of his scorched foundation, arou
nd the place where he estimated the pulpit had been. Had he taken his pulpit for granted? he wondered. He’d always thought it would be there, as if it had some hedge of protection around it and the Lord would never let harm come to it. He supposed it took losing it to realize how significant it was.

  He sifted through the rubble and came to a pew that was still intact, though it was black from the fire. He sat down on it, testing it with his weight. It held him up, so he relaxed and looked around at the things that were scarred and soiled from the fire.

  Some of the elders had met with the insurance agent, and he’d already been out to look at the damage. He hoped the church would get enough to rebuild. He hoped they had the energy to start again.

  He covered his face with his hands as the despair of the last few days rose up inside him, and as he began to weep, he began to pray, asking God to show him what his purpose was in this, what it could possibly mean, and what he was to do with it.

  A rattling, rusty old pickup truck pulled up to the curb, and he wiped his face quickly. It wasn’t until the truck door closed that he saw that it was Issie.

  She stood there in uniform, just off work, but she looked weak, pale, still ailing from the night before. He couldn’t believe she had come here instead of going back to Aunt Aggie’s to rest after a hard day on the job. She came to the scorched pew and sat down next to him. “Hey,” she said softly.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  She sighed. “I don’t know. I saw you coming out of Ray’s office awhile ago, and you looked kind of upset. I thought I’d come by and just see if you were okay.”