A shudder ran through her. If the smoke alarm hadn’t gone off, if someone hadn’t seen the blaze and called the fire department, if—
No. She couldn’t let herself keep reliving those terrifying moments when she’d struggled awake and run to Mandy’s room. The problem would be to stop doing it.
She crossed the hall to her daughter’s room, her stomach roiling. When she’d run in, terrified, Mandy had been awake, huddled under her quilt, clutching her teddy bear. Why hadn’t she come to her mother when she realized something was wrong?
The bear, Teddy, lay abandoned on the rag rug next to the single bed. She scooped him up and held him close, feeling tears sting her eyes. We’re all right. We’re safe.
She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. She had no time for crying. The clock was ticking.
In three weeks her prospective buyer would be here to check out the building. The specialist could call at any time to schedule Mandy’s cochlear implant. The two most important things in her life sped toward her.
She had to be ready. She suppressed a flicker of panic.
Okay. Carrying the bear, she started back downstairs. She’d take a quick look at the damage and then head back to the hospital. And tomorrow—
She frowned, swinging the beam of light around the front room of the downstairs. Water from the fire hoses hadn’t mixed very well with the dirt. Would she be able to bring Mandy back here tomorrow? Maybe, if the power company restored the electricity.
If not, that would mean a motel, and how she’d pay for that, she couldn’t imagine. The panic flickered again and was beaten down. She could do this. She’d find a way.
Little as she wanted to, she had to check the back of the building, where the worst damage was. She picked her way carefully across the littered floor, feet moving in the yellow circle cast by the flashlight.
A loud thud sounded at the back of the house. Her heart stopped for an instant and then started thumping wildly. She heard a scuffling sound, then the rumble of a masculine voice, followed by several loud bangs.
The sensible thing was to run out and call the police. She wasn’t feeling very sensible. Instead, rage surged through her. It wasn’t bad enough that she and her child had been forced out of their home by the fire. Now some lowlife was trying to get in and rob them. Well, he’d get more than he’d bargained for this time.
The flashlight beam touched a two-by-four about as long as a baseball bat. Perfect. She grabbed it and advanced on the door to the old kitchen.
Light gleamed from around the swinging door. Apparently her thief had come well-equipped.
Running on anger and adrenaline, she shoved the door open, raising her improvised weapon threateningly. A dark figure stood at the back door.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get out of here!”
He swung around, and her breath caught. Ryan. Ryan Flanagan stood there, a hammer in one hand.
Chapter Two
Ryan lifted his hands. “I give up. Don’t shoot.”
Laura’s heart pounded, as if once the adrenaline started to flow, she couldn’t stop it. “I’m sorry.” She realized she was still holding the two-by-four. It hit the ragged linoleum with a clatter.
He lowered his hands cautiously, probably not sure she was really disarmed. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you were at the hospital.”
“I came back to check the house.”
He nodded toward the teddy bear that was clutched under her arm. “And to find something important, I guess.”
She held the bear a little tighter. “He’s important to Mandy. She likes to sleep with him.”
“How is she?” Ryan leaned against a sooty counter, hands braced against its edge, apparently not minding the dirt. He’d exchanged his uniform for jeans and a dark-blue knit shirt, and he’d picked up a streak of soot across the front of the shirt, presumably since he’d entered the house. The concentrated light of the torch cast his strong face into sharp relief.
She forced herself to concentrate, her wits still scattered after finding him here so unexpectedly. “She’s going to be all right. The doctor thought she should stay until tomorrow to be sure there aren’t any aftereffects from the smoke.”
“That’s good.” He studied her face. “You look as if they should have kept you, too.”
“I’m fine.” She was getting tired of saying that. “I don’t want to be rude, but what are you doing here?”
“Fixing the door.” He gestured toward the door that led onto the porch, and she realized belatedly that the powerful torch he’d set on the counter was trained on the opening. The door sagged on its hinges.
“You don’t have to do that.”
He shrugged. “I broke it. Seems like the least I can do is fix it.”
“I can take care of the door. I don’t need any help.” She had to sound strong, because she was unaccountably weepy at the thought that Ryan Flanagan had actually come back to do something for her.
“Not even from an old school friend?” He gave her the easy grin that charmed so readily.
She blinked, startled. “I thought you didn’t recognize me.”
“You’re Laura Jane Phillips. At least, it used to be Phillips. You were a year behind me at Suffolk High. Am I right?”
She nodded. So he had remembered her. Or perhaps someone had told him who she was.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were yesterday?” His eyebrows lifted. “Or didn’t you remember me?”
“No one could forget the Flanagans.” She answered the second question first, evading his eyes. “I just—didn’t think it was appropriate to get into old home week when you were here on business.”
He leaned casually against the filthy counter, as if ready to stay and chat all night. “It bugged me all day, trying to figure out why you looked so familiar to me. How are your folks?”
“They’ve retired to Arizona. My dad’s health isn’t very good.” The usual pang of concern gripped her heart at the thought of her father.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I guess otherwise he’d be here doing the renovation for you.”
She nodded. It wasn’t necessary to confide in Ryan that her father didn’t know she was doing the rehab herself, for that very reason. If Dad knew, he’d try to come and probably kill himself in the process.
As for her mother—well, she’d stopped trying to figure her mother out a long time ago. She just knew she couldn’t count on her for help with this or anything else.
Ryan relaxed his long frame against the counter, not seeming in any hurry to get on with the door-fixing. “Anyway, I didn’t know you’d come back to Suffolk. I thought you were living in Philadelphia.”
“How on earth would you know that?” She hadn’t imagined he’d remember who she was, let alone know where she’d gone after school.
He grinned. “You’re forgetting my mother, with her encyclopedic knowledge of anyone who’s ever attended our church. Once I mentioned you, she trotted out everything she knew, including the fact that you were married and living in Philly. She was surprised we haven’t seen you in church since you’ve been back.”
Siobhan Flanagan had taught her in church school twice—once in kindergarten, then again in junior high. She had a gentle manner, a warm smile and a love that extended to even the most rebellious of teens.
Still, however warm her memories