Close to Heaven, Page 2

  From the front of the house came a loud creaking sound.

  Rain sat bolt upright. “Is someone there?”

  Who in their right mind would be breaking into houses in this weather?

  “I’m calling the cops!” She dialed 911.

  Breaking glass. A strange groan. A loud crash. A rush of cold air.

  On a surge of adrenaline, she jumped to her feet and ran to her bedroom door to look out. Her mouth fell open, her heart slamming in her chest. “Holy shit!”

  For a moment, all she could do was stare, her phone still in her hand.

  The roof. It had collapsed.

  It was still collapsing.

  The groan of bent and breaking lumber. Another flurry of snow.

  Phone still in hand, she dropped to the floor and crawled beneath her bed, unable to keep from screaming as the roof that had sheltered her bedroom crashed down.

  Joe lowered the plow on the front of his Land Rover. He wanted to get a jump on clearing the parking lot. Three feet of snow would be a hell of a lot easier to move tonight than seven or eight feet would be tomorrow morning. He drove lengthwise across the parking lot, piling the snow up at the far end. It would cost him a handful of parking spaces, but there was nothing he could do about that.

  Sirens.

  He backed up, caught a glimpse of a fire engine making its way slowly through town toward the roundabout at the center of town.

  Well, hell.

  This was a bad night to have an emergency. How were Hawke and his crew going to make it through the unplowed streets? If they got stuck…

  Shit.

  Joe made his way out of the parking lot and headed toward them, plowing the street as he went. Whoever was at the wheel of the big engine stopped when they saw him and flashed the headlights—a signal that they needed his help.

  He drew even with the driver’s side window, found Eric Hawke, the town’s fire chief, at the wheel.

  “Where am I headed?” Joe asked.

  Hawke pointed. “Rain’s house. Her roof collapsed. She’s trapped under her bed.”

  Joe’s heart gave a hard knock. “Fuck!”

  Not needing to hear more, he backed up and turned around, clearing a path for Hawke and his men as he drove, his thoughts on Rain. Was she hurt? Hawke hadn’t said so, but they hadn’t exactly had a long conversation about it.

  It seemed to take an eternity to cross town. The big engine was wider than Joe’s Land Rover, which meant that Hawke was driving with one tire on the plowed surface and the other on deep snow. More than once, the heavy vehicle slid, its lights jerking in Joe’s rearview mirror as Hawke got it under control again.

  Joe willed himself to focus on the road and not what was happening behind him. No one had more experience driving that big apparatus than Hawke no matter what the weather. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

  Joe turned the corner onto Fourth Street.

  Rain!

  Ice slid into his blood when he saw her house—or what was left of it. The entire structure had collapsed except for her garage, which leaned sideways as if it might fall at any moment. How the hell were they supposed to get to her?

  That’s Hawke’s job.

  Joe’s job was to move this snow so that Hawke and his crew could reach her. He plowed not only the street in front of her house, but also her driveway, then parked across the street and climbed out into the wind and cold. Hawke’s team were already moving around the structure, the truck’s scene lights illuminating the wreckage of Rain’s home.

  “Shut off her propane! I don’t want this place to blow!” Hawke shouted above the wind to Brandon Silver, one of his shift captains, who disappeared around the back. “Ryan, find the emergency electricity shut-off. There’s no way we’re getting into her garage to shut it off with the circuit breaker.”

  Joe wanted to help. “What can I do?”

  Hawke looked Joe right in the eyes. “I know you care about her, but I need you to stay back while we do what we can to stabilize the place and get her out. You’ve already been a big help.”

  “Right.” It wasn’t in Joe’s nature to be a bystander.

  He moved back to his vehicle, crossed his arms over his chest, and willed himself to stay the hell out of the way. The minutes dragged as Hawke and his crew worked in the bitter cold and snow to brace the garage and the roof against further collapse and then began to cut through the back wall to get to Rain.

  Whatever the town paid Hawke, it wasn’t enough. Joe had long considered him a hero, but he’d never watched him in action. The man knew what he was doing, his cool-headed leadership setting the tone for his crew. Joe supposed it was in his DNA. Still, the man deserved a raise, and Joe would do what he could to make sure he got one.

  Neighbors peered out windows or stood on porches to see what was happening.

  Mrs. Beech, the retired English teacher, opened her window. “Is she dead?”

  “No, Mrs. Beech. She’s okay.” Joe hoped to God that was true.

  “What if my roof collapses? This house has been in my family for four generations.”

  Joe looked up, saw cornices hanging over her eaves. Her house, like Rain’s, was among the older homes in town. If Rain’s had collapsed, there was every chance that other roofs in this neighborhood would collapse, too. “You got a ladder and shovel?”

  “In the garage. But I can’t climb up there.”

  “I’ll do it.” He waited for Mrs. Beech to open her garage door, then grabbed the ladder and climbed up onto her roof.

  Rain was trapped in a nightmare—a freezing, icy nightmare. She lay on her belly beneath her bed, shivering, her cell phone in hand. The weight of the roof and the snow made the old iron bedframe creak.

  If it broke, if it collapsed, too, she might be crushed.

  She’d heard the sirens, and the dispatcher had told her that Eric and his crew were there. Now she thought she could hear men’s voices from outside. She called out to them, wanting them to know where she was. “Eric?”

  The dispatcher’s voice came over her phone. “Rain, are you okay?”

  “I’m c-cold, and I’m afraid my b-bed is going to break. If it d-does… Wh-what’s taking s-so long?”

  “They’re doing everything they can. They had to shut off the power and the gas.”

  Rain hadn’t thought of that. If there’d been a gas leak…

  Don’t think about it.

  “I’ll let the FD know how you’re doing. Stay on the line, Rain.”

  Rain fought back a growing sense of panic, the cold seeping into her bones along with the bleak reality of her situation. Her house, the house she’d bought just last year, was in ruins. She’d heard breaking glass and knew most of her dishes must be smashed. What the collapse of the house hadn’t destroyed, water from snowmelt would. Her books. Her houseplants. Her grandmother’s crystal vase. The photo albums that held Lark’s baby pictures. All the little drawings Lark had made for her through the years, the birthday and Mother’s Day cards she’d given her.

  Oh, God.

  She could replace the dishes, books, and plants, but the vase and her keepsakes from Lark’s childhood were priceless. If they’d been damaged…

  Rain swallowed the lump in her throat. Crying wouldn’t fix anything.

  She wished she’d grabbed a blanket before crawling under the bed. She’d never been cold like this, so cold that her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Was she becoming hypothermic?

  From outside, she heard men’s voices again and the sound of splintering wood.

  Thank God.

  It wouldn’t be long now.

  In the dark and cold, Rain shivered and waited.

  Joe had just climbed down and stowed both ladder and shovel in Mrs. Beech’s garage once more when he heard the sound of cheers coming from behind Rain’s house. A moment later, Hawke rounded the corner, wading through deep snow with Rain in his arms, an emergency blanket wrapped around her.

  Sweet Jesus.

  Joe met the
m on the front sidewalk, his gaze on Rain. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, teeth chattering, her face pale.

  “She’s not hurt, but she’s hypothermic. Can you get her to the ER? We don’t have everything she needs on the truck. With that plow, you’ll get her to the hospital before an ambulance can arrive.”

  “Sure thing.” Joe took Rain’s weight into his arms, relieved to be able to do something. “Thanks, Hawke.”

  “Thank you for clearing the road for us. Take care, Rain.” Hawke turned, shouted something to his men about working through the night to clear rooftops.

  Yeah, the man ought to get a raise.

  Joe turned toward his vehicle. “You’re going to be okay, honey.” Shit. Had he just called her honey? “My SUV’s all warmed up. In five minutes, you’ll be in the ER.”

  “Th-thanks.”

  Not wanting to set her in the snow in her bare feet, he managed to open the passenger door with one hand, then settled her in her seat and fastened her seatbelt. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and cranked the heat. “I don’t suppose this will make much difference.”

  She needed warmed oxygen and heated IV fluids, not just the heater.

  “It f-feels g-good.”

  “God, Rain, I’m so damned glad you weren’t hurt.” Or killed. He thought the words but couldn’t speak them. “When I saw your house…”

  Damn.

  “It’s t-trashed—the h-house. Lark’s b-baby pictures… All her d-drawings… E-everything I w-worked for.”

  Joe could hear the shock and grief in her voice. He could see it on her pale face—that stunned surprise that so often came with tragedy. He reached over, gave her icy fingers a squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Rain. We’ll take care of all of that as soon as we can, but first, we need to take care of you.”

  Hypothermia could kill.

  He kept the plow down as he made his way through the center of town to the hospital, clearing a path for anyone who might need it, then parked outside the emergency entrance and carried Rain inside.

  Chapter 2

  If anyone had told Rain that she’d be homeless by night’s end and that Joe would be carrying her across the threshold, she’d have called them crazy. But here she was, her home and everything she owned in ruins, Joe carrying her through the open doorway.

  Too bad it was just the ER.

  Still, it was nice to be in his arms, his body hard and strong and warm. He’d been afraid for her. She’d seen it on his face. He’d even called her honey.

  Lolly Cortez, one of the registered nurses, met them just inside. “Hawke called and told us what happened. I’ve got a bed set up for her. Put her down in here.”

  Joe followed Lolly into an exam room and set Rain down on the bed.

  Rain moaned. “It’s w-warm.”

  “There’s a heating pad beneath you.” Lolly reached inside a steel cabinet and pulled out two heated blankets. She tucked them around Rain, cocooning her in warmth. “Does that feel better?”

  Rain nodded, still shivering.

  Lolly reached for an oxygen mask. “The oxygen is warm and humid. It will help us get your core temp up again. So will the IV. How are you with needles?”

  “I-I’m g-good.”

  “How about you, Joe?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” He moved to the other side of the bed to make way for Lolly, who wheeled over an IV cart and went to work on Rain’s left arm.

  On impulse, Rain reached for him with her right hand.

  Warm fingers closed around hers, his touch reassuring.

  “Ouch!” The IV hurt more than Rain had expected.

  “Sorry, sweetie.” Lolly finished setting up the IV. “We’ll let these fluids run and warm you up from the inside out.”

  “Th-thanks.”

  “Hawke asked dispatch to call out the Team,” Lolly told them. “He’s hoping they can help him and his crew clear off some of the older, flatter roofs around town before this happens to anyone else.”

  The Team—what locals called the Rocky Mountain Search & Rescue Team—was usually called out to rescue injured climbers or lost hikers. Shoveling snow off people’s roofs would be a new one.

  “They need to call out everyone who has a plow,” Joe said. “No one is going to get anywhere with three feet of snow on the roads.”

  “Whatever you clear, you’ll have to plow again tomorrow. I hear it’s supposed to be seven or eight feet by the time the storm passes.”

  “Wow,” Rain managed to say, her eyes closing. “Eight feet.”

  As her shivering subsided, she began to drift, fighting a losing battle to stay awake, their conversation floating over her.

  “It’s completely normal,” she heard Lolly tell Joe. “Hypothermia makes people sleepy. Her body has been fighting to maintain its core temp, and that takes energy.”

  “Are you going to keep her overnight?”

  “Probably not. Once we get her temp stabilized and are sure she’s out of the woods, we’ll discharge her.”

  “Is the hospital going to be okay?” Joe asked.

  “This place?” Lolly chuckled. “It’s a concrete and steel box. The hospital has withstood storms like this before. We’ve got a crew clearing the helipad and roof, just in case. A big storm like this usually brings a few heart attacks, some hypothermia, and people with back pain. It’s going to be a busy day here tomorrow, then, in nine months, we’ll have a baby boom.”

  Rain fell into a dreamless sleep after that—until Joe squeezed her fingers.

  “Rain?”

  She opened her eyes to find him looking down at her, concern in his brown eyes, his face impossibly handsome. “Sorry to wake you. I’m going to clear the streets for Hawke and his guys.”

  She held onto his hand a little bit longer. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want this to end. For a short time, he’d dropped the barriers he always kept around him. He’d carried her, held her hand, stayed by her. He’d been afraid for her. Now he was leaving. The next time she saw him, he would be her boss again, all zipped up and proper, and she would be his employee.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he said. “You can stay at my place until we figure out what’s next. How does that sound?”

  The thought lifted Rain’s spirits. Maybe this wasn’t over. “I’d like that. Thanks. Be careful out there.”

  She was asleep before he left the room.

  Joe called the fire department’s non-emergency number to let Hawke know what he planned to do.

  Jenny Miller, one of Hawke’s crew, answered. “Scarlet Fire and Rescue.”

  “Joe Moffat here. Can you let Hawke know that I’m going to plow the streets around the hospital? After that, I’ll make my way around town. If he needs me, he can reach me at this number.”

  “Sure, Joe. I’ll let him know. He’ll be grateful. How’s Rain?”

  “She’s hypothermic, but the ER staff is taking good care of her.” He’d hated to leave her alone, but there was nothing he could do for her, especially when she was asleep. But if he cleared the streets, he might make a difference for someone else. “Do you have a list of people with snowplows?”

  “I’ve never seen a list like that, but I can make a few calls.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Thanks for your help. Stay warm out there, and stop in for some hot coffee if you get a chance.”

  “I just might take you up on that.”

  Joe cleared the few blocks around the hospital and then made several passes through the roundabout, where the road had become treacherously icy. After that, he fanned out, moving down Scarlet’s main street and then onto its residential streets, lights in red, green, blue, yellow, and white twinkling from beneath the deep snow, all but the tallest Santas and mangers buried.

  Yeah, Baby Jesus was freezing his butt off tonight.

  Joe spotted Austin Taylor on First Street where he w
as busy plowing the driveway of the Forest Creek Inn, the old bed-and-breakfast owned by his in-laws. Taylor was a park ranger and a lead climber with the Team. Like Hawke, he was a hero.

  Joe pulled over, waited for Taylor to reach the mouth of the inn’s long driveway, hoping he would agree to join the little volunteer plow crew.

  Taylor stopped when he saw Joe, climbed out of his truck, and walked to Joe’s driver side window. “How’s Rain?”

  “How’d you hear about that?”

  “Hawke had dispatch tone out the Team to help clear rooftops, and dispatch told us what had happened.”

  Oh. Right.

  “Rain has had one hell of a rough night, but she’s in good hands. I’m taking her to my place when they discharge her. She can stay with me until she’s got a new home.”

  Taylor nodded, a strange grin on his face. “Good.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  Joe didn’t get to ask because at that moment Bob Jewell, owner of the inn, stepped outside and walked down the plowed stretch of driveway toward them, wearing only a velour bathrobe and a pair of snow boots. He waved to Joe, then turned to his son-in-law. “You’re not leaving, are you? The front walkway still needs to be shoveled, and the driveway—”

  “I’m just talking with Joe. Please tell me you’ve got something on beneath that robe. You look like a damned flasher.”

  Bob chuckled and opened the robe, giving them a glimpse of his hairy chest and belly—and a pair of white men’s underpants.

  Joe shook his head. “I could have gone my whole life without seeing that.”

  “You and me both,” Taylor said.

  Bob chuckled. “You’re just jealous. It takes a lot of single malt to build a one-pack like mine.”

  Taylor pointed toward the inn with a gloved hand. “Get inside before you catch pneumonia. If you get sick, Kendra will kick your butt.”

  Bob got a worried look on his face. “True enough.”

  Satisfied that his son-in-law wasn’t abandoning him to the snow, he made his way back toward the house.

  Joe got to the point. “I was hoping you and I could team up to clear the main streets around town. It will be a lot easier to deal with now than it will be tomorrow.”