* * * *

Jake put a hand to his face to cut the glare of the lights and brilliance of the fire. "I think there's a woman at that window. And with the way the fire is glowing behind her, I'd say I've just about got time to get her before it blows"

* * * *

The inferno fought for domination, but firefighters controlled it. Hot spots died under the expert hands of those who didn't want to settle into warm beds only to return later if the fire re-ignited.

As smoke wove through the area, faded then finally disappeared, Rebecca gather her long skirt and vanished as well.

* * * *

Jake always took time to go by the scene of a fire before he reported to duty. So he swung his old  ninety-four Chevy truck around the corner of Dulles Lane at the edge of town where the Freemont Fabric Company once stood. 

Oak trees that had to be at least a century old lined the sidewalks on the far side of the wide lane. "Well, I'll be. That looks like the woman I rescued last night."

"Miss, what are you doing out here?" He held up a coat, offering its clean warmth though it looked bad. "Why aren't you in the hospital?"

"I didn't need to go. Your medical lady cleared me." She joined him in the warm truck. "What's the matter? Do you disapprove of me?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Jake came out of his reverie and sat up straighter. "What makes you think something's the matter?"

"You were looking at me with narrowed eyes and rubbing your chin as if you were judging me. You act like you're angry with me."

"I didn't mean to give that impression. I do that when I'm thinking. Habit I guess." He grinned and added, "Like talking to myself."

She almost choked on her sip of coffee but managed to swallow it before laughing with a tinkling sound that lifted Jake's spirits. "I talk to myself as well, and those around me don't exactly approve. Seems we share some bad habits." Her mischievous grin told him she was teasing.

* * * *

"Life wasn't what it seemed, was it?" she began for him.

As if he'd known her forever, more importantly as if he had trusted her forever, Jake told Rebecca things he'd hidden so deeply in his heart that he had to work to get the words out. As he spoke, he had trouble differentiating his emotions. Was he grieving, hating or expressing his love for his wife and daughter? They seemed so tangled together that he had trouble saying how badly he missed his family without saying how much his wife's betrayal hurt. Memories flew around in his mind's eye and refused to settle. Just as his thoughts were not coherent, so had his life been incoherent for the past twelve months."

"Your family died. That is the obvious the world saw. What happened that led up to your loss?" Rebecca no longer seemed to overflow with tenderness; her attitude almost demanded that he answer her questions.

"This is damn strange. I met you during a fire and brought you home. I've known you less than twenty-four hours, but..." He cut his glance away from her, examined his hands now lying listlessly in his lap. 

"But?"

"Maybe it's time. Maybe it's easier to tell a stranger what happened than folks who know me. Maybe I can stop feeling guilty for loving and hating my wife at the same time.

* * * *

Jake saw the smoke roll to one side for an instant. Wiping a hand across his mask, just to make sure nothing was there to interfere with what he thought he saw, he inched forward. There! Just below the level of the smoke, he thought he saw...No, no way a man could still be alive under that fall of heavy lumber. Two by twelve pieces of board had fallen and formed a cave of sorts. Under that shelter lay a man. Jake could see the boots and the bottom of brown duck pants.

Because he was the only one on sight and it looked like the man needed immediate rescue, Jake threw up a prayer for the safety of both and made a dash forward. The wind was holding steady out of the northwest and the way looked clear to the fallen man. Axe in one hand and pike pole in the other, Jake had a clear path. But no! He stumbled. When he glanced down to see what blocked him, he saw nothing but  a thin line. Bothered by that, but unable to put his finger on why, he stood and took two steps.

BOOM!