“Kids can be a handful,” she agreed quietly. She knew that better than anyone. “But my son is a little more complicated than others.”
“Oh?”
“He’d been fighting at school, and he was only in the first grade. It had gotten so bad that he was expelled. Our family counselor in Billings suggested that I bring him here to explore his roots, as it were. He’s searching for something, and I need to help him find it.”
“You think I’m part of that?”
Suddenly it seemed as though she was asking too much. Matthew Bailey didn’t know her, or her husband. He didn’t owe them anything, and if Chris was struggling, it certainly wasn’t his problem. She grimaced.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem, and I should be—”
“I didn’t say that.” His eyes locked on to hers and he dipped his head down slightly to keep the eye contact. “This matters a lot to your little boy.”
Rachel let out a pent-up breath. “Yes.”
“I wish you’d given me a bit of notice.” There was a smile tugging at his lips again, and the heat rose in her cheeks.
“I called three times and left messages, but I didn’t hear back from you,” she attempted to explain. She shouldn’t have brought Chris here without making an appointment—that was a mistake. She was normally more cautious and planned than this.
“We’ve got a new receptionist.” He shrugged. “It’s been...interesting around here.”
They were both silent for a long moment, and Rachel attempted to keep her mind away from this firefighter’s rugged good looks. She’d been married to a firefighter already, and she knew better than to go down that road again. But she was here, and she’d already trampled all over every polite boundary—
“I hope this isn’t too much to ask, but would you be willing to talk to Christopher a little bit?” Rachel hesitated, then plunged on. “I don’t mean about the fighting, just about—” she shrugged “—finding him, that sort of thing. I know that my husband wasn’t part of your firehouse, but—I’d appreciate this a lot.”
Matt was silent for a beat, then nodded.
“I could try, but I should warn you that I’m not the smoothest guy with kids. There is another firefighter who was there that night who might be a better guy to talk to Christopher. He has four kids of his own and he just seems to connect with children better than I do.”
Rachel’s gaze trailed around the small, impersonal office. There was more to the story—the part where she’d failed her son, too. She hadn’t wanted to tell this part. In fact, she’d hoped that a little visit with Christopher’s firefighter would be the beginning of some healing. She hadn’t counted on Matthew Bailey having his own complications.
“I didn’t tell Christopher that he was adopted right away,” Rachel confessed. “I knew I was supposed to, but when Ed died, it blindsided me and I never could find the right moment, or the right words. Last year he asked me about being inside my tummy, and I had to tell him the truth. It was really hard for him.” She sighed. “When I told him about you and how you’d found him and held him, that seemed to comfort him a lot. So I told him the story about being found on your doorstep quite often.”
“You might have made me into more of a hero than I really am,” he said.
“Maybe,” she agreed with an apologetic smile. “But he’s a kid who needs a hero. And right about now, you fit the bill.”
“How long are you in town?” he asked, his tone low and warm.
“For good,” she replied with a quick nod. “I’ve just been hired at the Broxton Park Elementary School to teach the fourth grade.”
He froze, dropped his gaze, then cleared his throat. “It opens again this year.”
“Yes, I’d read that there was a fire, and this year it will reopen. I’m really grateful for the opportunity. I have family here in Haggerston, and it will be good for Chris to be closer to relatives.”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, and there seemed to be complicated emotions flickering behind those steely eyes, a hint at what lay behind that granite mask.
“And if I can return the favor, I will,” she added quickly. “Here is my phone number and address.” She pulled a slip of paper out of her purse and slid it across the desk. “If there is anything I can do... Maybe you have some children in your family who need to be tutored or perhaps I can be of some assistance to the fire department when it comes to school groups or—”
The phone rang and Rachel clamped her mouth shut. Matt picked up the call. He averted his gaze as he spoke quietly, too low for her to make out the words. After a moment, he hung up and shot her an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got a meeting.”
Rachel hitched her purse up on her shoulder and nodded quickly. This was getting more and more awkward by the minute, and all she wanted to do right now was to retreat. “Of course. I know that you’re busy and I’m grateful for squeezing me in. Thank you for your time, Deputy—”
“Matt.”
She blinked. “Pardon me?”
“Call me Matt. And I’m not trying to get rid of you. Maybe we could talk more later. I might be able to take you up on your offer, too.”
Rachel’s cheeks grew warmer. “I’m glad. And thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
He reached out a hand and enveloped her slender fingers in his warm grip. A shadow darkened the doorway, and Rachel stepped back to allow the man entrance.
As she slipped from the small office, she glanced back and found Matt’s warm gaze locked on her over his visitor’s shoulder. A smile flickered over his lips and he turned his attention back toward the gentleman in his office. Rachel smothered a sigh and turned her steps in the direction her son had gone. This wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d hoped.
* * *
As the petite dark-haired woman disappeared down the hallway, Matt closed his office door. She was persistent—he’d give her that. She was also one of them—the widow of a firefighting brother, and he couldn’t just forget about that. Firefighters were a tight group. When you put your own life on the line, you had to trust your brothers to step up and take care of your family if the worst-case scenario happened.
Which had happened for Ed Carter, God rest his soul. He remembered that death clearly because it had been so pointless. The firefighter had been hooking up hoses in order to fight a fire on a rolled tanker when a drunk driver careened by and took him out. Death in a fire seemed more acceptable, somehow, than the way Ed Carter had died, and it felt strange to know that he’d just met Firefighter Carter’s widow.
She’s beautiful.
This wasn’t exactly the thought that was appropriate for a time like this, and he pushed it back and turned his attention to his visitor.
The portly gentleman settled himself in the visitor’s chair without much room to spare. He was an older man with gray, thinning hair and red cheeks.
“It’s good to meet you, Matthew.” The older man adjusted himself and shot Matt a grandfatherly smile.
“Likewise. It’s nice to put a face to the voice, Mr. Bernard.”
“This is the less formal part of the process. Don’t think of this as an interview—it’s more of a meet and greet.” He held out a business card.
“Understood.” Matt accepted the card and scanned the details. He wasn’t fooled, though. This was most certainly an interview.