Flood Zone. Dana Mentink

when the rain let up. While Dallas banged on the roof, Mia and her young daughter, Gracie, helped Cora organize closets. Cora insisted the little group take a long dinner break together every evening during which even Juno, Dallas’s German Shepherd, got his share of fragrant stew. What Dallas got out of the deal, besides some pocket change and women chatter, she had no clue. Surely, he didn’t need the money that badly. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, Mia. Maybe, her suspicious heart echoed mockingly. Yeah, and maybe you were happy to see him every weekend just to admire his roofing skills. Never mind. They were almost done organizing closets, and then she could put Dallas safely out of her thoughts.

      The residence was at the back of a large property, a good acre of shrubland screened it from the road. It was cool, the May rain puddling the already saturated ground. It was to be a bad storm season in Colorado, talk of floods coming. It made her long for Florida’s mild climate, but she’d never return there. Ever.

      Juno hopped out, nose twitching.

      “Stay out of the mud, dog,” Dallas advised.

      Mia joined him.

      “Ideas regarding what Cora needs to talk about?” he asked.

      “No.” Mia shook her head. “She’s been secretive lately, spending extra hours at the clinic. I almost got the feeling she might be lying to me about something.”

      They looked at Juno who had busied himself snuffling through the underbrush until he froze. Mia thought at first that he’d caught the scent of a bird or groundhog. Then she got it, too. The acrid tang of smoke as she took a few steps toward the house.

      Dallas sprinted up the drive with Mia right behind him. They cleared the thickly clustered cottonwood trees in time to hear the whoosh of breaking glass when the lower story window exploded. Mia nearly skidded into him as the shards rained down on the muddy ground.

      Her mind struggled to process what was happening. He gripped her arms, and she saw the tiny reflected flames burning in his chocolate irises. “Call for help. Keep Juno out.”

      Mia’s hands shook so badly she could barely manage to hold on to both the phone and Juno’s collar. The dog was barking furiously, yanking against her restraining arm in an effort to get to his owner. Nearly eighty pounds of muscle, Juno was determined, and he definitely did not see her as the boss.

      Frantically, she dialed the emergency number. Tears started in her eyes as she realized she was not getting a signal. The tall Colorado mountain peaks in the distance interfered. She would have to move and see if she could find another spot that would work. Dragging Juno with one hand, she made her way back toward the car. They’d only gotten about ten feet when Juno broke loose from her grasp and ran straight for the burning house.

      “Juno, stop!” she yelled. The smoke was now roiling through the downstairs, and she’d lost sight of Dallas. There was no choice but to keep trying to find a place to make the call. Three times she tried before she got a signal.

      “Please help,” she rasped. “Cora Graham’s house on Stick Pine Road is on fire.”

      The dispatcher gave her a fifteen minute ETA.

      Her heart sank. They could both be dead in fifteen minutes. She stowed the phone in her pocket and ran to the front porch where she remembered there was a hose Cora used to water her patches of brilliant snapdragons. The wood of the old house crackled violently, letting loose with a spark every now and then that burned little holes through the fabric of her jacket. One started to smolder, and she slapped a hand to snuff it out. Flames flashed out the first-floor windows. Juno barked furiously, dashing in helpless fits and starts, unsure how to get to his master.

      She cranked the hose and squirted the water at the open front door. Where are you, Dallas? Inside, the flames had spread through the sitting room, enveloping the oak furniture in crackling orange and yellow. She climbed up the porch steps, dousing the wood with water and forcing her way into the entry, past the spurts of flame.

      She sprayed the water vigorously, but there was simply not enough flow to combat the hungry fire. She retreated to the front porch, skin stinging from the poisonous air.

      Dallas appeared at the upstairs window. He shouted something to Mia, but she could not understand. The fire was nearly upon her, heat scalded her face and hands, smoke filling her lungs. She backed farther away, praying the fire engine would arrive soon to douse the flames.

      There was no welcoming wail of sirens.

      She scanned the upper story and once again caught sight of Dallas. He was batting at the flaming curtains with a blanket. She saw a way she could help. Climbing a few feet up an ivy-covered trellis allowed her to stretch the hose far enough that she could train the water on the burning fabric. Dallas jerked in surprise and then disappeared back inside, returning a moment later with Cora in his arms and stepping onto the roof. Mia’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched Dallas walking on the precariously pitched shingles with his precious burden.

      His feet skidded, and he fell on his back, somehow stopping his slide before he fell over the edge. Mia jumped off the trellis and cast the hose aside. “Here, lower her down to me.”

      It was an awkward process, but Dallas managed to ease Cora low enough that Mia could grab her around the waist. Staggering under the weight, she tottered backwards until Dallas jumped down and they both carried Cora away from the burning house. Juno raced behind them to a flat spot of grass where they laid the old woman. Dallas ordered the dog to stay.

      Mia brushed sooty hair away from Cora’s forehead. Her sparkling blue eyes were closed, her mouth, slack. She put her cheek to Cora’s mouth, praying for a reassuring puff of air. Panic swirled through her veins as she felt nothing at all. Starting CPR, she pressed her hands to Cora’s chest.

      “Come on, Cora,” she said. “You’re not going to leave me now.”

      Dallas dropped to his knees and performed the rescue breaths at the end of her compression cycles. After a full minute, Dallas checked her pulse.

      He shook his head.

      Tears trickled down Mia’s cheeks as she began the next cycle. “You haven’t finished learning Italian,” she said to Cora. “You’re only on lesson three, and that’s not going to be enough if you want to go to Rome.” Another set of compressions and rescue breaths.

      This time she didn’t allow herself to look at Dallas. Cora was going to live. Shoulders aching she pressed with renewed vigor. “And your nephew is happily married in Seattle. He’s not going to want to come and take care of this sprawling old place, isn’t that what you always said, Cora?”

      Sirens pierced the air and a fire truck appeared through the smoke, rumbling up the grade, followed by an ambulance. Mia did not slow her efforts.

      “You wake up right now, do you hear me? I mean it. I told you over and over not to keep those silly scented candles in your bedroom. They did not keep away the mosquitos, no matter what you say. You wake up so I can chew you out properly.” Tears dripped from her face and cleared spots of black from Cora’s forehead.

      The medics ran over, but stopped short when Juno barked at them until Dallas quieted him. They pushed forward, eyeing the big dog suspiciously, and edged Mia out of the way.

      “I have to stay with her,” she pleaded.

      Dallas drew her back, his voice oddly soft. “They’ve got it, Mia. Let them work.”

      “But...”

      He gently, but firmly, took her arm and moved her several yards distant from the paramedics.

      She breathed in and out, forcing herself to stop crying. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she repeated, waving him away when he came close.

      Dallas stood there, long muscled arms black with soot, the edges of his hair singed at the tips, looking at her until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

      Dallas didn’t answer.

      “Please tell