An Aspen Creek Christmas Page 8

  “Wait!”

  She ignored him and darted to the chicken run at the other end of the little barn, knowing there was little hope. The roosting chickens had probably already died from the smoke.

  But now she heard angry squawking and the beating of wings against the chain-link fencing that formed a roof over the pen, meant to protect them from hawks and owls.

  Wind-driven flames were already starting to reach this end of the barn and from somewhere inside she heard the screech of weakened timber giving way.

  There’s so little time. She slipped inside the outside pen through its narrow walk door. Grabbing two of the hens, she slowly made her way to a large, empty kennel inside the garage, fighting the deep snow and the wind that threatened to send her back two steps for each one forward. She locked them in a Great Dane–sized kennel and then hurried back for the final bird.

  Ethan—now limping painfully as he made his way through the heavy snow—and Penelope arrived minutes later. Inside the garage Hannah sagged against the bumper of her SUV with exhaustion and relief.

  “Penelope can wander around in here for the night, I guess. I’ve got a couple bales of cedar shavings I can put down in the corner on the far side for her, and some in the cage for the chickens. Not perfect, but it will do.”

  “Better here than out in a blizzard.” Ethan scraped the thick blanket of snow off the pony’s back and neck with the side of his hand. “That barn will be a total loss.”

  “I know.” She looked into the high-walled pen where the pups were sleeping in a warm pile while their mother, Lucy, kept a watchful eye on Ethan and the pony. “At least everyone is safe. I’d better get inside and check on the kids. Molly ought to be old enough to keep an eye on Cole for a little while, but you never know.”

  The two were standing just inside the door when Hannah and Ethan walked in, their faces tense with worry.

  “We were afraid you’d get burned up. The fireman called and said he couldn’t come.” Cole looked back and forth between Ethan and Hannah. “Is the pony okay? And the chickens, too?”

  Hannah ruffled his blond hair. “They’re fine. Now they’re up here in the garage where they can stay warm and dry tonight.”

  Cole’s anxiety seemed to ease, but she wasn’t sure about Molly.

  Hannah gave her a closer look. It wasn’t tension or fear on her face. It was misery. Sheer misery, coupled with overwhelming guilt. “Molly?”

  “I didn’t mean to do it. Honest.” The girl’s lower lip trembled and tears filled her eyes.

  “You mean the fire?” Hannah exchanged glances with Ethan, then led Molly to a chair at the kitchen table and sat next to her while Cole and Ethan headed for the living room. “It could have started for a lot of different reasons. What could you have done to cause a fire?”

  Molly’s tears spilled down her face. “I thought the hens were too cold. Ruth kept fluffing up her feathers like she needed to be warmer and that funny-looking heater wasn’t even very hot...but I couldn’t find a way to turn it up. So I moved it closer to where they roost. What if it made their feathers catch fire?”

  “I didn’t see a single singed feather. They even had enough sense to flee to their outside pen.”

  “But—”

  “A heat lamp with a bare bulb and no wire guard would be a big risk for sure. But the people who brought those hens here also brought the flat-panel heater from their coop, which is much safer. It’s just mild, radiant heat that brings up the temp a few degrees.”

  “I...I thought...”

  “Anything electrical could probably short out somehow, but if that happened to the heater, it wouldn’t be your fault. Maybe there was some mouse damage to the wiring somewhere in the barn.” Hannah rested a gentle hand on Molly’s cheek. “I’ll call the insurance company and fire department Monday morning. I’m sure they’ll want to figure it out for the insurance claim. No worries, okay?”

  “Where will the animals stay now? Will they be all right?”

  “They’ll be fine. After I get the snow cleared off the driveway tomorrow, I’ll start parking outside, until I can figure out a replacement for the barn. That probably can’t happen until spring, but we’ll get by.”

  Molly nodded somberly.

  “With all this excitement I haven’t noticed the time. What would you like me to start for supper?”

  “I’m not really hungry. But thanks, anyway.”

  Hannah sighed as she watched Molly go back to her room, then she rose and went to check on Cole. He and Ethan were on the floor, bathed in the warm light of the fireplace and well into a round of Candy Land. As always, Maisie was pressed close to Cole’s side as if she knew how much hurt he still held inside.

  The picture of Ethan and Cole, with their heads nearly together as they concentrated on the board game, made Hannah’s heart squeeze.

  She’d thought of Ethan as her nemesis for thirteen long years. Remembered every last detail of the weekend of his betrayal and his callous departure for active duty without a farewell, much less an apology.

  He’d torn her heart in two.

  Ever since she’d thought of him as heartless. Cruel. Someone she never wanted to see again. Someone she could never forgive.

  Eventually she had, after a lot of prayer. But it had been a grudging forgiveness. An obligation, once she’d really thought about the words of the Lord’s Prayer she said every night.

  And then Ethan showed up on her doorstep two days ago and turned her safe world upside down.

  Her heart had warned her to stay clear of him from that very first moment. Yet...he was a warrior, one who had sacrificed for his country. One who—like all soldiers—deserved the heartfelt thanks of every American, including her. Even if she wished he’d leave Aspen Creek and never come back.

  But now she’d seen another side of him and wondered if she’d been wrong about him all along.

  A cruel man didn’t play Candy Land with a little boy and clearly try to lose.

  A heartless man didn’t trudge through deep snow, feeling pain with every step, to rescue an elderly pony, or try to break through a young girl’s shell of grief and loss with gentle words.

  Her cell phone chimed, pulling her out of her troubled thoughts.

  “Bill Jacobs here. Fire department.” She’d known the fire chief and his wife Marnie since her EMT days, before she’d gone on to her hectic clinical phase of study at Mayo.

  She smiled into the phone. “I’ll bet you’re having a busy day.”

  “Too much. Family of five—their dog woke them up late this morning before they all died of carbon monoxide poisoning. I’m still thanking God for that dog. Three little kids, right before Christmas...” He swallowed hard. “Then there was a fire at the apartments west of town and we had to call for trucks from two other towns for that one. And then Keeley North’s dad wandered off this afternoon. In the middle of a blizzard, no less.”

  Hannah drew in a sharp breath. “Please tell me he’s all right.”

  “Dr. Talbot was covering the ER when we finally found him and brought him in. Frostbite, hypothermia, but he’ll be okay. She said he’s too cantankerous to die.”

  “Poor Keeley. She must have been beside herself.”

  “While I was still there, she was talking to the doc about finding a memory care unit for him.” Bill sneezed. “Anyway, I’m real sorry we couldn’t make it out on your call—we were already spread too thin and the snow is so bad I don’t think we could’ve even made it up your road. If it had been a house fire, we would have tried hard to get there. But I understand it was that old shed out back?”

  “Small barn. We didn’t lose any animals, but I’m sure it’s a total loss. I’ll call the insurance company tomorrow.”

  “Is it still actively burning anywhere?”

  “Once the
roof and framework were gone, I could see the hay smoldering. After all the wet snow falling on the hay, I imagine it will continue for some time. There’s nothing else close to the barn at risk, though.”

  “I’ll try to get out there tomorrow, too, in case there’s any question about how it started. Will you be at the clinic or at home?”

  “Clinic. But I’m just working nine to three Monday through Friday until New Year’s because my niece and nephew are here. Permanently, I hope.”

  “The wife and I were real sorry to hear the news about your sister.” He hesitated, cleared his throat. “Just a warning—you know that Gladys Rexworth will surely hear about your fire from some gossip or another. She’ll think it’s a good excuse to stir up the city council again about shutting down your rescue operation.”

  “She’s already tried, but I’m licensed and have passed every inspection, and so have the other two women who take in strays. She and the rest of the city council should just be thankful they don’t have to add a shelter to their annual budget. Though, if the town grows any more, they’ll need to.”

  “And cut back on their beautification projects? They’d consider that a bitter pill.” He snorted. “But I’ve got to say one thing—Gladys seems to have a very personal vendetta against you, and I’d hate to be in your shoes. Any idea what got her started?”

  “Um...can’t say,” she told him.

  Which was completely true, and long after the call ended, Hannah stared out the window at the deepening dusk.

  She knew full well why Gladys had held on to her grudge. Why she had tried to ruin Hannah’s career at the clinic with her gossip, and would now try again to end the animal rescue out of sheer spite.

  But because of strict medical privacy laws, there wasn’t a thing Hannah could do to stop her.

  * * *

  Ethan helped Hannah set up the generator outside, in the lee of the garage, to maintain the electricity for the appliances, water heater and well pump, since the power was still out.

  The fireplace, Hannah said, was usually adequate for enough warmth so the water pipes didn’t freeze, though everyone would be wearing warm sweaters and extra socks.

  While she let the dogs and puppies outside for a brief run and filled their food and water dishes, he brought several armloads of firewood inside and filled the two kerosene lanterns.

  Now the pups were running helter-skelter through the house, sliding on the hardwood floors and yipping at each other as they wrestled. Cole was in the midst of the melee, nearly bowled over by their sloppy puppy kisses and trying to hold a pudgy little brown-and-white one that was wriggling in his arms.

  The cats had immediately disappeared in the face of the onslaught pouring in the door. The basset hound hadn’t stirred from his warm spot by the fireplace.

  Old Maisie had retreated to the fireplace as well, clearly overwhelmed by all the exuberance.

  “I’m going to start supper,” Hannah announced, peering into the refrigerator. “We’ve still got lots of leftovers to use up from dinner on Friday, if that’s all right with everyone. After that, we’ve got several pans of lasagna and some casseroles that friends dropped by for the freezer. Let’s eat in about an hour, okay?”

  “All sounds good to me.” Ethan surveyed the flashlights and candles sitting on the kitchen counter, then shouldered on his coat. “It looks like you’re all set in here, but I’d like to check out your garage and see if something better could be done for the pony. I noticed the plywood walls of the puppy pen. Is there any extra plywood out there? Or extra 2x4s?”

  “Stacked against the south wall and also up in the eaves. I can come out to help as soon as I get this all started.”

  “Can I help?”

  Cole looked up him with such longing that Ethan felt his heart catch. Was the boy missing the days of projects with his dad, or was it that he longed for the male companionship that Rob had rarely shared? “Of course, buddy. I need a helper and you’ll be perfect. Put your jacket and boots on, though.”

  Out in the garage Ethan discovered Penelope in the narrow space between Hannah’s SUV and the house, with her head deep into one of the garbage cans, its aluminum lid on the floor and much of the contents scattered at her feet.

  “Looks like you’re having a good time,” he muttered, tossing the trash back into the can and settling the lid on tight. “If this means you’ll be having a bellyache, I don’t think your vet will be making house calls tonight.”

  Across the garage he discovered the stack of 2x4s and a couple sheets of plywood. Eyeballing the back corner of the garage, he cut some of the wood with a handsaw then began building an L-shaped framework that could support sections of plywood four feet tall and eight feet long.

  Cole appeared at his elbow. “Can I hammer something?”

  “You bet. Watch out for your fingers, though.” Ethan steadied the boards while Cole gave a nail a tentative tap then missed the nail entirely. “Good job. This is really hard with such a heavy hammer and that little nail. Try again.”

  Cole sent a worried look at Ethan and then whacked at the nail again, sending it sideways.

  “I guess I don’t know how.”

  “Everyone starts out like this—and with practice, learns to do better. Your dad and I didn’t do half as good as you when we were your age.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. It just takes time. And maybe a smaller hammer.” Ethan searched the small workbench near the puppy pen and found a lighter tack hammer. “Try this one.”

  Cole two-handed it and missed the nail then hit it on the second try with a resounding thwack.

  “That, my man, was excellent.”

  Beaming, Cole tried it several more times before putting down the hammer. “My arms are tired,” he confessed. “Sorry.”

  “I could still use your help, though. The nails are in that red bucket by your feet. Can you hand them to me, one by one? This will go a lot faster and then Penelope can have her own stall tonight.”

  Cole nodded, his face filled with pride.

  The pony wandered over and stood behind Ethan to oversee the project, her warm breath and muzzle whiskers tickling the back of his neck. In an hour the simple framework was assembled, the plywood panels hammered onto the frame.

  The door into the house opened and Hannah stepped out into the garage. “Wow. That is amazing, you two. It’s perfect!”

  Cole looked up at her with shy pride. “I’m just the helper.”

  “And he’s really good at it, too. Without Cole I couldn’t have done half as much.” He gestured to a three-foot opening on one side. “This is for a gate, but I couldn’t find any spare hinges on the workbench.”

  “I don’t think there are any. Did you look in the buckets of odds and ends under the workbench?”

  “No luck. I figured I could temporarily suspend the door—” he held up a section of plywood “—and fasten it on both sides with hook-and-eye closures, like the ones for old-fashioned screen doors. I found a few of those. The next time you go to town, you could pick up a couple of proper hinges.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” she said fervently. “I really didn’t like the thought of the pony roaming the garage all night. The cement floor is just too hard for her old bones and she could get into all sorts of trouble.”

  Hannah picked a heavy, plastic-wrapped bale of compressed pine-shaving bedding from a stack at the front of her SUV, slit it open in the new stall, then got two more bags while Ethan finished the temporary gate.

  After fluffing the bedding with a pitchfork, the hard bale of shavings expanded into a deep, soft bed so the pony could comfortably lay down. Hannah put her hands on her hips and surveyed the results. “This is fantastic, Ethan and Cole. I’m so grateful to you both. Especially as it could be months before it’s warm enough to start building a new
shed.”

  Cole grinned from ear to ear at her praise. “Can she have some of the hay by the puppy pen?”

  “Since all the rest of the hay in the barn is probably smoldering, yes, indeed. I’m so glad I brought up so many bales to insulate the outside walls of that pen.”

  Ethan glanced around for a bucket. “Can I use that for the pony’s water?”

  Hannah nodded. “I’ll get it—I’ll need to fill it from the bathtub faucet, and it will be heavy.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Look, you might be a tough guy, but I see you limping worse than ever. As much as I appreciate your help, going out to the barn through those drifts didn’t do that leg any favors.”

  She grabbed the bucket before he could get to it and grinned. “It’s time to come in for supper, anyway, and probably time for that ice pack you didn’t want.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I don’t know how many times Molly asked about school tomorrow,” Hannah murmured as she snuggled deeper under her afghan on the sofa and sipped a cup of hot cocoa. “I wonder if she’ll even sleep tonight.”

  “At least there should be a two-hour delay or a cancellation,” Ethan said.

  “Just more hours for her to worry about her entrance into enemy territory.” Remembering the words of the older girl on the carriage ride, Hannah had offered to call some church friends and track down Joanie, who was apparently Molly’s age. Would Molly want to think up some random questions about school to ask her, as a way to make contact?

  Mortified, Molly had violently shook her head at that, saying Joanie would think her a total loser if she needed her aunt to find her a friend. Then she’d announced she was going to bed.

  “I’ve already been told that I can drop her off in front of the school, but I was not to go in and embarrass her.” Hannah sighed. “The elementary school actually wants parents to bring children inside and make sure their names are checked off, and the same routine after school. But Molly wants me to be invisible. Was I ever like that when I was her age? I hope not.”