We’re out of the car in an instant. I watch Maggy take off at a jog, so I pick my pace up to match hers. Reaching out, I take her hand in mine. There are a hundred or more people watching the scene before us, and I don’t want to lose her.
When we reach the main part of the crowd, Maggy pulls me along until she stops in front of a young woman wearing a robe. Maggy quickly asks, “Cassie, what happened?”
“Aw, man. I fell asleep.”
“You fell asleep?” Maggy asks sounding confused. “What does that mean?”
Just then, the sound of glass breaking draws our attention to the building. Smoke is billowing out of a first-floor window. “Fire,” I mumble.
“Isn’t that your apartment?” Maggy asks the young woman.
“Yep.” She sounds so cavalier. “I was cooking something.” She looks over at the guy standing next to her. “What was I cooking?”
“Bacon, I think, babe.”
“Right.” She laughs. “I was cooking bacon. I guess I fell asleep.”
“Cassie,” Maggy starts to say in an angry voice. I take that moment and tug on her hand.
“Come on. Let’s see if we can find out if the fire has spread.”
“Right.” Maggy glares at the stupid girl in the robe. As we walk, I hear Maggy grumbling. Words like, “Idiot girl.”
She’s right.
Weaving our way through the crowd, I spot a firefighter standing back near a police squad car. “Excuse me?” I ask the older man.
“Yeah?” he grunts more than speaks.
“This is Maggy Fitzgerald.” I nod at my girl. “She lives on the third floor.”
“Yeah?”
Maggy decides to ask the question. “Do you know, has the f-fire spread up there?”
“Won’t know until we get the thing doused.”
“Right.” She looks over at me, and the pain on her face. It’s palpable. “Mom’s stuff,” she says barely above a whisper.
“We’ll check as soon as we get the all-clear.”
She nods. I wrap my arm around her and pull her into my side. When she rests her head on my shoulder and wraps her arms around me, it causes guilt like you wouldn’t believe, because I feel great. Like this is what I’ve needed forever. I’ve needed this woman, Maggy Fitzgerald, wrapped up in my arms.
33
Maggy
I takethree steps inside my apartment and want to cry. Partly in relief because none of my stuff burned but partly in sadness, because while nothing burned, there’s black soot on just about everything.
“At least there’s no water damage.”
Once we were finally told we could enter the building to gather up anything we would need for a week or more, Nate took my hand in his and we climbed up the three flights of stairs using the back staircase. The one up front was a little charred, apparently.
We drove Sara back so she could watch Brynn while we check out my place. On the return trip to my apartment, I called Robin to tell her what had happened. Without hesitation, she dropped whatever she was doing and said she’d meet us there. She should be here any minute.
I ponder Nate’s words about no water damage, and I suppose he’s right. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to have to replace everything. Especially the things in Brynn’s room. Her bedding is beyond repair. No amount of washing is going to save it. Not that I’d let her sleep in bedding that was once covered in smoke and soot.
I look up at the framed photos on her shelf and literally want to sob. They’re so black, you can no longer see the pictures. I guess Nate sees what I’m seeing, because he steps over to the shelf, picks up the frame with my mom’s photo, and wipes it off with the bottom of his shirt. “See?” he gives me a sweet smile. “This stuff will clean right up.”
