Lucy And The Loner. Elizabeth Bevarly

her furniture, her clothes, and everything else she had ever owned—all the physical trappings that made Lucy Dolan Lucy Dolan—all that was gone forever.

      She hugged the teddy bear tighter to her, rubbing her chin over the worn spot on top of his head that had become worn by that same gesture for thirty-four years, and wondered how she was going to take care of Mack—not to mention herself—now that she had nothing else left.

      “Lucy?”

      She turned at the sound of her name to find her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Palatka, wringing her arthritic hands in worry. It was she who had made Lucy put on the sneakers some time ago, but the older woman had been unable to get her young neighbor to do much more in the way of self-preservation. Lucy was still wearing the clothes she’d managed to throw on before making her escape, but she was only now beginning to realize that the T-shirt and boxer shorts were damp and cold and offered no protection from the chill morning air. In spite of that, she scarcely noted the goose bumps mottling her flesh.

      “Come to the house and have some breakfast, dear,” Mrs. Palatka said. “You need something to warm you up.”

      The white-haired, warm-hearted woman looped a surprisingly sturdy arm around Lucy’s waist and squeezed hard. Mrs. Palatka hadn’t changed out of her night clothes yet, either, and beneath her winter coat fluttered a red flowered muumuu emblazoned here and there with big purple letters that spelled out, Aloha from Waikiki! Coupled with her huge, purple, fuzzy bedroom slippers, limp from the morning dew, she looked almost as much the part of a refugee as Lucy did.

      “Come on,” she said again. “You’re going to catch your death out here. You need a hot shower and some hot food. And you can borrow some of my clothes until you get settled.”

      Recalling that Mrs. Palatka’s wardrobe consisted almost exclusively of synthetic Capri pants and fluorescent halter tops for the full-figured gal, Lucy battled a smile. “That’s okay, Mrs. P.,” she told her neighbor. “I keep my work clothes in the truck. They’ll do for now.”

      Wordlessly, she collected a few things from the cab of her pickup, then allowed herself to be led to the house next door. She listened passively to the soothing words her neighbor offered about thank God no one had been hurt and it was a good thing Lucy had insurance and tomorrow was another day and everything would work out fine, just wait and see.

      She put herself on automatic pilot and let Mrs. Palatka ply her with hotcakes and sausages and coffee. Then she mechanically showered, letting the hot cascade pelt her back, watching with an odd melancholy as the black, sooty water swirled down the drain. She pulled a faded green, hooded sweatshirt over her head and stepped into a pair of equally faded, baggy denim overalls, donned her work boots, and felt a little better. Only when Lucy was seated on her neighbor’s couch with nothing more demanding to do than stare out into space did the enormity of her situation finally register.

      She had no place to go. No one to turn to.

      Except for Mack, Lucy was completely alone in the world. She was an only child, having been adopted as a toddler, and her parents had died within a few years of each other by the time she was thirty-one. With only a handful of cousins she’d met maybe two or three times in her life scattered on the other side of the country, Lucy essentially had no family left. And the Arlington, Virginia, house where she’d grown up, the only house she’d ever really known, was nothing now but a pile of ash.

      All she had left was Mack, who had pretty much been her only family for more than three years—ever since he’d shown up as a shivering, soggy handful of skin and bones at her back door, following a monstrous thunderstorm the morning after her mother’s funeral.

      Lucy had taken his timely appearance to be a sign. As silly as it might sound to others, she’d always had the feeling that Providence had given her Mack to love and care for, because she’d had no one else left for that after her mother’s death.

      That was why she owed such a huge debt to the firefighter who had rescued him. By running back into a blazing house, Boone Cagney had saved the only living creature in the world Lucy needed and loved, the only living creature in the world who needed her and loved her in return. Without Mack, her life would be hollow, joyless and lonely. Boone Cagney had saved Lucy’s family. He had saved her life.

      She inhaled a broken, battered sigh and released it in a shudder of breath. From nowhere Mack jumped up onto the couch and bumped his head against her elbow, then nuzzled close before curling up in her lap. Lucy smiled and rubbed her hand along his back and under his throat, and the thrumming of his steady purr reassured her some.

      As long as she had Mack, she told herself, everything would be okay. Somehow, some way, she’d put her life back together again. She’d just have to force herself to focus on the future and not dwell on the past. Piece of cake, right?

      She sighed furtively and decided not to think about it for now. What consumed her thoughts instead was the huge debt she owed to Boone Cagney. And although Lucy prided herself in the fact that she always paid her debts, the settlement of this one eluded her. Everything she owned was gone. Her financial savings were meager at best. Whatever she received for her house from the insurance settlement was going to have to buy and outfit a new place for her to live.

      All she had was a tattered teddy bear whose inherent value would be useless to anyone but her, and Mack, with whom she would never part, no matter how grave the debt. She simply had nothing to offer the big, blond firefighter who’d saved Mack’s life, she realized morosely. Unless, of course, she wanted to give him herself. But why would he want something like that? No one else ever had.

      The hand stroking Mack’s back gradually slowed, then stilled altogether as a hazy idea rooted itself in her brain. Actually, she thought, that just might work. There was a way Lucy could repay Boone for everything he had done for her. There was something she could give him that would settle the debt in some small way.

      She could give him herself. Sort of.

      Now all she had to do was figure out how to wrap herself up all nice and neat and make him accept her small token of gratitude. Unfortunately, Boone Cagney didn’t seem like the kind of man who was open to receiving gifts, whether they were owed him or not.

      “So what do you think, Mack?” she asked the cat who had moved into her lap, tucked his legs up under himself, and curled his tail around his body quite contentedly.

      Mack opened one eye, clearly disinterested, then closed it again, sighed with much satisfaction and purred louder.

      Lucy thought some more as she rubbed Mack behind the ear. “I guess if he’s not the kind of guy who accepts things easily,” she murmured, “then I’ll just have to be a bit more persuasive than usual.”

      Mack grunted in his sleep, though whether the sound was one of agreement or dissension, Lucy couldn’t tell.

      “That’s okay, Mack,” she said softly to the slumbering animal. “I’ll take care of everything. You just be yourself.”

      

      Boone had finally managed to slip into a restless slumber when a rapid knocking at his front door awakened him with a start. Jerking his head up from the pillow, he squinted at the blurry green numbers on his clock, then swore viciously when he realized he’d only been in bed for a little over an hour. With another muffled curse, he collapsed back onto the mattress and mentally willed the intrepid intruder to go away.

      But the pounding only reverberated through his house again—louder this time. So he sighed his resignation and rolled out of bed, then stretched lethargically before scrubbing two hands through his hair. Because he was expecting to send his uninvited caller on their way right quick, he didn’t bother to put on a shirt, and instead padded barefoot across the bedroom, wearing only a pair of faded navy blue sweatpants.

      Man, it had been a bitch of a night, he thought, rubbing a knot at the base of his neck. It was a terrible thing to watch a person’s house—a person’s home—go up in flames along with all their worldly possessions. He supposed he’d never get used to that part of the job. The only thing worse than