“Honestly, the firefighter’s hold leaves me one arm free to hold the rail or to push aside obstacles.” He paused. “I’ve carried out two hundred and fifty-pound men that way. Down a ladder. We’ll be fine.”
“Fine.” Gosh, she was so nervous. So much could go wrong. She cast a prayer heavenward that they’d make it down safely. “Let’s go.” She held out her hands for the crutches.
Seth scooped up Chantal. She laughed louder than she’d laughed for months. “Here, Mama.” She thrust her crutches out and Joy grabbed them.
“Excuse me,” Seth exclaimed. Everyone turned in his direction. “Coming through. Make way.”
The solid authority in his voice made her swoon a little. People parted and let them come through. Chantal raised her head and grinned. She was having the time of her life. Thank heaven for the resilience of kids.
Seth carried Chantal down the escalator, back down the mall, and outside. He set her down beside Adesh’s car. He waited for Joy to catch up. “Your taxi, your highness.” He bent low and opened the door without shifting her position. “Ready?”
When she agreed she was, he swung Chantal into his arms and slid her smoothly into the back seat.
“That was so much fun,” Chantal exclaimed as they pulled away. At the parking lot exit, they had to wait while six fire trucks pulled in. Whatever put the lights out must be serious.
They met Jenny in the observation car as the train rolled forward. Jenny and a crowd of participants cheered their success in gathering the required outfits. Jenny shook their hands and said, “You’ve got less than two hours until we stop at Lyons. You’ll go immediately to the school to meet the singers and conduct your practice. The concert is tomorrow night.”
Chapter Seven
Sethsatbesidethewindow at a table in the forward dining car, waiting for the server to bring his lunch. In retrospect, it was lucky they hadn’t gone to the food court. He’d heard on the radio that the fire had ended up being a false alarm–someone had tampered with the power. He breathed easier, relieved that it wasn’t something worse.
Snowy scenery raced by in the same way that his thoughts were going. He supposed that as fast as trains usually go, they weren’t moving very quickly. He was seriously dreading being in charge of a bunch of kids. Kids were not his strong suit. They were his kryptonite. He was a firefighter. Public speaking was easy. He spent a lot of hours canvassing for fire safety. But kids? No way. When it was time for school visits, he made certain he was on days off. He avoided those gigs like a dieter avoids donuts.
The server, a young girl in her twenties, set his lunch in front of him and gave him a flirty smile. “If you need me, I’ll be over there.” She said as she pointed over her shoulder.
Holy smoking ashes. She was flirting with him. She was just a kid. “Thanks.” He dug into his lunch without looking at her. Hopefully, she’d take the hint. The Denver sandwich was delicious. A bacon, onion, cheese, and green pepper omelet between toast. Add a coffee and a side of fries and he was in heaven. He was happy to eat because, by the looks of things, tonight would be a late dinner.
The car was nearly empty. Only the nurse and the older gentleman she cared for were there eating. They talked in low, subdued voices. It looked like they might be arguing. No doubt the old guy had definite opinions on his care.
The door between cars opened and Joy came in. She held the door open for Chantal. Chantal scanned the car, and her eyes lit up when she saw Seth just two tables away. She hurried toward him and dropped into the seat beside him.
“Hi, Mr. Mathison. I made you something.”
“Oh?” He had no idea what to say beyond that.
“Mama, hurry up. I need my picture.”
“Mind if we sit?” Joy smiled.
“Not at all, please join me.”
“Mama!”
“Oh. Here you go.” Joy handed Chantal a piece of folded paper from inside her cross-body purse.
“This is for you,” Chantal wiggled in her seat like an excited puppy. She thrust the paper at him.
The outside of the paper said Mr. Mathison, in childish block printing. “Thank you.” His nieces and nephew were often drawing pictures for him, and he made sure to respond kindly and enthusiastically despite his discomfort. Gently, he unfolded the lined paper, which had been torn from a notebook. Inside was a colorful picture of a firefighter carrying a girl down an escalator beside an enormous Christmas tree. It said,Merry Christmas. Thanks for saving me. Love Chantal.
Saving her?He hadn’t saved anyone. All he’d done was carry her down a flight of stairs.
“I love it, Chantal. Thank you. I’m not sure I saved you, but the drawing is very nice. I like how you colored my uniform, and the girl looks just like you.”
“You did save me.” She clutched his arm. “I didn’t want to freeze in the mall. It was dark and scary. And then there were all those fire trucks.” Her eyes widened at the thrill of a near-miss tragedy. She shifted her crutches aside and dove under his arm and onto his lap to wrap her arms around his neck. “I love you, Mr. Mathison.”
“I love you too.” How could he not adore this girl? She was sunshine itself, courageous and generous. Her gratitude warmed his heart, maybe even melting a bit more of the ice around it. He blinked moisture from his eyes.No way. He wasn’t going to cry because of a hug and a picture. No way!
He looked up at Joy, who shrugged as if to say, “What can you do with kids?” He grinned.
