Man of His Word. Cynthia Reese

I’d already gone through all the foster-care paperwork and the classes, and they’d done a home study. Plus...you were listed as a special-needs baby. They needed somebody who would take you, no questions asked.”

      “Yeah. I forgot about all that.” She leaned over her mother’s shoulder and studied the photo. “Hey, I was kinda cute. I thought babies were ugly.”

      “You were beautiful. Tiny. But beautiful. Except...” Daniel scratched his head as he recalled the bruises he’d left on her pale pink skin. Other bruises, that the EMTs shrugged off, had started popping up, as well. Part of the birthing process, they’d assured him.

      Just then the “ennnh” of the fire alarm’s buzzer reverberated through the building, and the radio crackled to life. He listened, took in the bare facts: multicar accident on the interstate, gas-tank leak, trapped driver.

      “Sorry,” he told Kimberly and Marissa. “This will have to wait.”

      And then he was out the door, trying to focus on the fire call, the person trapped in the vehicle, that dry westerly breeze that could make fires on the interstate get out of hand with hair-raising speed.

      But as he pulled on the last of his turnout gear and swung into the station’s extended cab pickup with his captain at the wheel, he caught sight of Kimberly and Marissa’s faces.

      His gaze fixed on their expressions as Dave, his captain, peeled out behind the fire engine.

      Marissa’s was typical tweenager, like his nieces and nephews, her eyes alive with curiosity and excitement.

      Kimberly? Her fingers went to her mouth, her brow creased ever so slightly and her eyes were dark with worry as they locked with his. She knew the life. The risks. The fact that even with routine calls, there were never any guarantees.

      He didn’t know how Kimberly knew, but her eyes held that same look that Ma’s had every time his dad had left the table to answer a call.

      And he didn’t know how he felt about having someone he’d barely met worrying that much about him.

CHAPTER THREE

      “YOU’RE SURE YOU don’t mind waiting?” Kimberly asked Marissa as they sat on the front bench in front of the fire station. They’d passed some of the time in the chief’s office, but the cramped confines had seemed to make Marissa more restless, so Kimberly had suggested a change of scene. “The secretary said that it could take a while.”

      “I wish I could have gone with them!” Marissa enthused. “You know, see them cut the car up. Mrs. Karen—” she jabbed a finger back toward the station and the secretary’s office “—she said they had to use the Jaws of Life. Man, wouldn’t that be cool, Mom? To see them save somebody’s life?”

      Kimberly shuddered. She’d already picked up enough of the garbled radio traffic to understand that the woman driver was in critical condition and that the extrication was taking longer than Daniel had anticipated.

      No, when she thought about the accident, all Kimberly could picture was Marissa trapped in that car, critically injured, dying—it could have been them on that very interstate. She shook herself and purposefully focused her mind away from the grim vision and onto appreciating her good fortune.

      Maybe they should leave and come back. Daniel would likely be tired and not in the mood for pesky questions when he returned. And wouldn’t he have loads of paperwork? She needed him to be as cooperative as possible so that she could pick up any facts that might lead her to Marissa’s birth mother. It was important.

      No. She thought again about that woman trapped in the car. It was critical to find Marissa’s birth mother.

      “Maybe I could be a firefighter, huh, Mom?” Beside her, Marissa bounced with excitement. “It’s a rush, don’t you think? I mean, you’re sitting here, or maybe washing the truck, and then, boom! You’ve got to fight a fire or get somebody out of a building—”

      Kimberly didn’t say the first thing that popped into her mind as Marissa burbled on. She didn’t point out, not even gently, that there was no way a doctor would ever approve Marissa for a job as risky as a firefighter...or a police officer or a soldier or astronaut—any of the adrenaline-buzzing careers that Marissa gravitated toward. Maybe her daughter said she wanted to be those things because Kimberly had pointed out that they just weren’t possible—and not because she was a girl, but because...

      The rumble of the fire engine around the curve tugged her thoughts back to Daniel.

      He did look weary when he slid out of the cab of the truck. His face was smeared with soot, his turnout jacket loosened to reveal a grimy white T-shirt.

      “You’re still here,” he observed as his boots hit the concrete driveway.

      “Yeah, you said— We waited.” Now Kimberly was doubly uncertain about her decision. “But we can come back. I expect you’re tired and you—”

      “Hey, Chief! Did you save her?” Marissa interjected. “Is she okay? The woman in the car?”

      “They airlifted her to Macon. I think she’s got a good shot.” Daniel’s face brightened as he shifted to face Marissa.

      “That is so cool! I wish I could have been there!”

      “You sound like my niece. She’s determined to be a firefighter when she grows up. Gives my mother a heart attack every time she mentions it.”

      Kimberly couldn’t help but admire the way Daniel was so patient and careful with Marissa. Maybe the fact that he had a niece explained it? Or maybe...maybe he still felt a connection with the baby girl he’d saved all those years ago?

      “Should we come back?” Kimberly asked him, trying to gauge his willingness to talk with them.

      He shook his head. “No. No, you’ve waited all this time. But can I have a few minutes to grab a shower? You wouldn’t want to be cooped up with me in my condition right now.”

      Marissa spoke up again. “Can I help your firefighters some way? I mean, you’ve got to get things cleaned or organized or...something, right?”

      Daniel chuckled, and Kimberly tried not to roll her eyes. This was the same girl who thought unloading the dishwasher every morning was equivalent to torture.

      “Sure.” He called over his shoulder to a firefighter—a woman, Kimberly noted. “Bobbi, show this probie how to check the hoses.”

      “You got it, Chief,” Bobbi told him.

      Then he turned to Kimberly. “Five minutes? You can wait in my office if you’d like.”

      It was more like ten minutes when he joined Kimberly. His hair was damp and curling, a droplet of water still clinging to the lock that brushed his forehead, but he looked less tired and more refreshed.

      “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, the picture.” He picked up the photo, which Kimberly had placed on his desk after his hasty departure.

      “Can I—can I get a copy of this?” Kimberly asked him. “It’s a gorgeous photo. I’d love to have one, that is, if you don’t mind.”

      “Sure.” He nodded, and the droplet of water on his dark hair flew off. “I can scan it and email it to you, or I can go over to Walmart and get a copy made. How long are you going to be in town?”

      “Er...that depends. We’re trying to track down Marissa’s birth mother. So if we can find her and talk with her, then we’ll probably be leaving fairly soon.”

      “Oh, no. You...” Daniel worked his mouth, as if he was choosing his words carefully.

      “I mean, you can tell us, right? Where to find her?” Kimberly scooted to the edge of the hard plastic chair, her stomach full of fluttering anxiety.

      “She’s been in touch