Balancing Act, page 6
Noah had an old house he wouldn’t mind sacrificing for the effort. Besides, lighting a fire might be the only way to put a lid on the motormouth’s questions.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Hurray!” Drew scrambled out of his chair. “I love playing with fire!”
Noah turned his most ferocious gaze upon the boy and stepped right up to him. Looming above the boy, hands braced on his hips, he put a stern note of threat into his voice as he said, “Stop. Right. There. We already talked about the lighter you used earlier. Fire is not a toy. Never under any circumstances is fire something to play with.”
Drew’s eyes went round. “I know. I didn’t mean we’re actually going to play with fire. That’s just an expression.”
“Don’t care,” Noah snapped. He wanted to put the fear of God into the boy where this subject was concerned. He’d lost track of the times he’d seen when mixing children and fire led to heartache. “Don’t even say such a thing is fun, you got it?”
Drew nodded and said, “Yessir.”
Noah held the boy’s gaze for a long moment, then nodded and took a step back. “All right. Put your hat and mittens back on, and you can hold the door while I get the dollhouse outside.”
“They’re not mittens. They’re gloves,” Drew corrected as he tugged his outdoor gear from his pocket. He studied the shelving. “Can I pick which one we burn?”
“No.” Noah intended to use one of his early, basic structures, which he mainly kept for scraps, not the more elaborate designs he built today and gifted to fire stations around the state for training purposes.
“Okay.” The boy pulled on his hat and gloves. Excitement glimmered in the gaze he turned toward Noah.
To his shock and surprise, Noah was tempted to smile as he donned his coat. He liked that the kid had accepted the no rather than whine. Made him think he probably heard the word quite often.
Noah absently rubbed his aching thigh as he walked to the shelves at the back of the workshop where he stored the completed houses ready for shipping. Then, like an excited puppy, Drew scampered around Noah. He asked, “Which one is it? Is it heavy? I can help you carry it. I’m pretty strong for a kid my age.”
“I can tell. You’ve got some guns for a, what, ten-yearold kid?”
“I’m only eight.”
“Ah, well. You look older than eight.” Seeing the proud lift to Drew’s shoulders and the self-satisfied smirk form on his lips, Noah couldn’t help but smile. Probably the first one he’d cracked in weeks. Maybe months. Hell, had he smiled even once since his personal Armageddon?
That thought wiped the smile right off his face. Gruffly, he spoke to Drew. “It’s this one here. It’s not terribly heavy, just bulky. And I’m not going to carry it. I’m going to wheel it out in this.”
Noah gestured toward the four-wheeled collapsible wagon he used to tote items around his property. He couldn’t carry very much when he needed a cane to walk.
The boy eyed the dollhouse critically. “That’s not very fancy.”
“It doesn’t need to be fancy. It’s supposed to be functional. Here, you get the top right corner.” With Drew’s help, Noah lifted the dollhouse off the shelf and set it into the wagon. “Go get the door, son.”
Outside, Noah set the dollhouse atop the old iron barrel. It was a two-story structure made of plywood with a pitched roof. The interior contained four separate rooms and an attic space with sliding panel doors to access each. This particular dollhouse stood forty-two inches tall and thirty-six inches wide, which made the structure slightly smaller than a Barbie Dreamhouse. “You gather some fuel while I get my torch.”
“What sort of fuel?”
“Anything that will burn. Forage around below the woodpile. Pine cones are great for this purpose.” Noah slid open the door on the bottom right. “Put them in here. This is our burn room.”
“Okay!” Drew scampered off.
Noah went inside to get his blowtorch, a spray bottle of water, and a fire extinguisher. When he returned, the boy had a nice pile of tinder in the dollhouse. Noah pointed toward a log a safe distance away. “You go sit over there. Watch and listen.”
“Can’t I—”
“No.” The boy did as he was told, and Noah nodded at him. He realized he kinda liked this kid. Go figure. He didn’t like anybody anymore.
He began his lecture. “Like I told you earlier, my dollhouses are training tools for firefighters. The better a firefighter understands what the fire will do next, the better he can fight it. Using this house, we can demonstrate fire flow path.”
“What’s that?”
“Behavior. I’m going to show you fire behavior.”
“I know how fire behaves. It makes smoke, and you can die from smoke. You don’t have to be on fire and burn up to die.”
“That’s true,” Noah agreed. “But did you know that opening the wrong window in a burning house can speed the fire’s growth? Or that opening the right window can make the fire go where you want it to go?”
“Why would I want to make a fire go anywhere but out?”
“Well, because first, you must rescue the people inside.”
Concern glimmered in the boy’s eyes. “And the pets,” he insisted. “You can’t let their dogs die.”
“People and pets are first priority,” Noah assured. “You buy yourself time by controlling the flow of oxygen to the fire and, thus, controlling the fire.”
Drew frowned as he studied the dollhouse. “What if you keep all the windows shut?”
“Well, why don’t we see?”
Noah lit his propane torch and set the tinder in the burn room afire. For the next ten minutes, he showed his young trespasser how fire moved from room to room, how introducing oxygen gave it fuel, and how removing it killed the flames. While he hadn’t given a demonstration like this in forever, it came back to him easily. He talked about the science of fire behavior, smoke patterns, smoke colors, and air patterns.
The boy was captivated. And smart. He asked the right questions, but Noah realized he was missing an opportunity. He’d satisfied the boy’s interest in the dollhouses, but Drew Eldridge didn’t need to know about firefighting science. He needed safety knowledge. “Do you know how you would get out of your home in case of a fire, Drew?”
“We don’t really have a home right now,” the boy responded with a shrug. “We’re living in one of Nana’s cabins at the lodge until we decide where we want to live forever. We might go to Texas to be near my uncles and Aunt Brooke if we decide not to stay in Colorado.”
“Okay, then, do you know how you’d get out of your cabin?”
“From my bedroom?”
“From every room,” Noah said. “You need to know two ways out of every room in your house. Actually, every building you enter. You should make it a habit to take notice of exits every time you go somewhere new.”
“Like my nana’s house. I sleep over with her a lot.”
“You should definitely have an escape plan for everywhere you sleep.”
“We had one at our old house.” Excitement and pride gleamed in Drew’s eyes. “It was two stories, so we had ladders to hang from our windows. Mom even had us do fire drills like we did at school.”
“That’s good. Do it for your new place, too.” Noah closed the sliding doors on the dollhouse, leaving only the burn room window cracked. He nodded toward the boy. “Come here, Drew.”
He sprang from his seat on the log.
“Now, do what I do.” Noah placed his fingertips against the left top slide. Drew repeated the motion. One by one, they tested the slides. Noah lifted Drew to reach the attic and roof vents. He saved the burn room for last.
Drew touched it, then quickly yanked his hand away and backed up, putting distance between himself and the dollhouse. “It’s hot!”
“The fire behind it is actively burning. The lesson here is that if you’re ever in a burning building, before you open a closed door, touch it. If it’s hot, don’t open the door. Find another exit. Because remember—what happens if you open that door?” Judging the boy to be far enough away for safety’s sake, Noah slid the burn room door open.
“Kaboom!” Drew exclaimed when the flames flared.
“In a manner of speaking, yeah.” Noah opened all the dollhouse door slides. Soon, the house was ablaze.
“Wow. That’s really so cool. Thank you for showing me, Mr. Tannehill.”
“You’re welcome. So, tell me what you’ve learned.”
“Stay low to stay out of the smoke. Touch doors to see if they’re hot before you open them. Then, get out, stay out, meet up where planned.”
“That’s all good, but you left something out.”
“I did?”
“You did.”
Drew furrowed his brow. “I don’t—Oh! Two ways out! Always know two ways out!”
“There you go.” Noah picked up his fire extinguisher and asked Drew, “Have you ever used one of these?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, then.” He walked over to the boy and handed the extinguisher to him saying, “Lesson number two. With a fire extinguisher, you want to remember P.A.S.S.”
Drew studied the piece of equipment with wide eyes. “Like a football?”
“If that’ll help you remember, then sure. Pull, aim, squeeze, and sweep. Back up some more. You need to stand eight to ten feet away.”
“Okay.”
Drew moved back fifteen feet. Noah took him by the shoulders and guided him to where he needed to be. “Now, don’t do anything until I tell you. I’m going to describe what I want you to do first. Okay?” He waited for the boy’s nod, then continued. “First is P. You’re going to pull the pin on the fire extinguisher. You know what the pin is?”
“This thing?” Drew gripped the end of the pin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Yes, that’s it. When I tell you to do it, you’re going to pull that pin. For A, you want to aim the nozzle low toward the base of the fire. S, you’re going to squeeze the lever to discharge—No! Not yet. What did I tell you?”
Drew grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m supposed to wait.”
“Then do it.” Noah took a breath to collect his thoughts before he continued. “Okay, once the foam begins to flow, you’re going to sweep—the second S. Sweep the nozzle from side to side until the flames are extinguished. Got it?”
“I think so.”
“Then practice. We’re going to go through it once pretending.”
“But the house is about to burn up!” Drew exclaimed. “Shouldn’t I hurry and put the fire out?”
“I think you should do what I say. Practice. What are you going to do first?”
“I’m going to pull this.” Drew pretended to pull the pin with a flourish. “And then I’m going to aim this hose, and then I’m going to squeeze this trigger, and then I’m going to spray from side to side like this. Can I do it for real now?”
Noah figured he had a fifty-fifty chance of getting hit in the face with foam. “Go for it.”
Drew couldn’t get the pin out. Noah put his fingers over the boy’s and helped. “Aim the nozzle.”
The lever proved to be too stiff for the boy, too, so Noah helped him squeeze. “Woo-hoo!” Drew called as the white foam arced toward the fire.
“Keep it low at the base of the fire, remember? And don’t forget the second S,” Noah cautioned.
“Sweep!” The boy gleefully extinguished the fire, continuing to spray until the canister had emptied.
“Good job, Drew.”
“Thanks, Mr. Tannehill. That was fun. How do you know all this stuff ? Are you a firefighter?”
Noah went still. Now, there was a kick in the balls disguised as an innocent question.
His mood returning to black, Noah snapped out, “No.”
Then he walked over to the tree stump where he’d left his cane, picked it up, and added, “Wait here. Your mother should be arriving any minute. Don’t touch anything.”
“Where are you going?”
Noah didn’t respond as he started toward the house, then stopped and reconsidered. He returned to the burn site, bent, and scooped up his blowtorch. Sound floated toward him in the brittle winter air. An automobile headed in his direction.
“Mr. Tannehill? Mr. Tannehill, wait!”
He didn’t wait. He picked up his pace. He didn’t want to look at Drew’s bright, curious eyes or see his wonder and ready smile. He didn’t want to hear any more about his having lost his father or answer any more of the kid’s incessant questions. He damned sure didn’t want to speak to the mother. He wanted to shut himself in his cabin, alone.
Alone. That’s what he needed.
What he deserved.
Less than a minute after he entered the house, he heard a knock at his front door. “Mr. Tannehill, can I come in? I need to use the bathroom. I gotta go really bad. Number two. And you’re out of toilet paper in the bathroom in your workshop.”
Noah thumped his head on the nearest doorjamb, then headed for his back door.
Chapter Four
IN A QUARTER MILE, turn right onto Running Elk Road. Your destination is on the left.”
Willow let out a relieved sigh. What should have been a thirty-five-minute trip had taken almost an hour due to an accident on the road near Raindrop Lodge and a stubborn herd of mountain goats who created another roadblock a mile back.
Seated beside Willow in the front passenger seat, Aunt Helen observed, “Something I’ve wondered about—is there a way to make your GPS speak in a masculine voice instead of a feminine one?”
From the backseat, where she sat next to Emma, Genevieve replied, “Surely there is.”
“Remind me to google that later,” Aunt Helen said, glancing down at her phone. “I don’t have any bars here.”
They were out in the middle of nowhere, Willow thought. Her grip tightened around the steering wheel. How could she have brought her children to a place where cell phone service didn’t exist? What kind of mother was she?
Not as good a mother as her own—that’s for sure. Willow could always count on Genevieve Prentice. She always did what was best for her children. Even when she’d had her own little personal crisis, flipped out, and moved to Colorado, that had been the best thing for the family because it led to the truce in World War Prentice.
No matter how hard she tried, Willow would never be as good a mom as Genevieve.
She didn’t have her mother’s strength.
Genevieve hadn’t retreated from the world when her husband died leaving her with not two, but four—FOUR—children to raise. Nope, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and charged ahead. Fearlessly. Unlike Willow, who was afraid. All. The. Damned. Time.
Willow had been so relieved and grateful when her mother had arrived at the Raindrop Lodge cabin with Aunt Helen just as Willow started her car to retrieve Drew from the address on Running Elk Road. Genevieve had a knack of being there when Willow needed her. At least, she was there when Willow wasn’t pushing her away.
While Emma played with Willow’s tablet—screen rules be damned under these circumstances—her mother and Aunt Helen chatted almost nonstop. The conversation centered on the women’s ongoing feud with the county employee in charge of permitting and provided Willow a welcome distraction. Despite the primarily positive intel from Zach about Noah Tannehill and the fact that Drew had sounded just fine when she spoke to him, Willow’s worry and concern ratcheted up with every minute that passed. By the time she reached the entrance gate at 4743 Running Elk Road where a sign read the hideaway, she was strung tight as a guitar string.
Her son had been alone with a stranger for more than an hour. What if…
Stop it.
She followed tire tracks through the snow toward a large, attractive log mountain home. A second building on the property appeared to be what was popularly called a barndominium these days. Her gaze darted between the two structures. She was desperate to see her son.
Willow recognized that her anxiety level was overblown. Her mouth shouldn’t be this dry. Her heart shouldn’t pound this way. However, this is what she’d been dealing with for the past few years. Mrs. Eldridge, there’s been an accident. Mrs. Eldridge, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. He wasn’t buckled into the car seat, Mrs. Eldridge. Your son is lucky to be alive.
“There he is,” Genevieve said from the passenger seat. “Near the barn. What is that thing he’s holding?”
Willow heard the click of a seatbelt release, then Aunt Helen scooted the center of the backseat and leaned forward. “It looks like a fire extinguisher to me.”
A fire extinguisher! “What is he doing with a fire extinguisher?”
“Better than a fire starter, I’d imagine,” her aunt observed.
The tire tracks continued toward the house, but Willow veered off in the direction of the second building. She was thankful she drove an SUV equipped with snow tires, especially when she stomped on the brakes and the tires slid a bit before the vehicle came to a complete stop.
She cut the engine and bailed out of the SUV. “Drew, baby. Are you okay?”
“Don’t call me a baby, Mom,” he protested as she threw her arms around him and clutched him tight. “I’m fine.”
Thank you, God. Relief made her knees weak, but rather than collapse like she wanted to do, she rode the motherhood roller coaster and did her job. “Actually, you’re not fine. Andrew John Eldridge, you are in so much trouble! You had permission to walk up to the gift shop. What made you think it was all right to take off into the wilderness all by yourself ?”
“I didn’t mean to go into the wilderness, Mom. I thought I was taking a shortcut, but I got lost. I didn’t know which way to go. Then I found the creek, and I thought it would lead me to Mirror Lake, only instead, I saw this house. I was going to knock on the door and ask for help, but I got distracted by the North Pole.”
Santa Claus. The North Pole. “What are you talking about, Drew?”
“Look! I’ll show you!” He dropped the fire extinguisher and dashed around the corner of the building. Willow trailed after him, a follow-up question about the fire extinguisher on the tip of her tongue.
