Raised From the Flames Read online

  Raised From the Flames

  By Raina Wilde

  © Copyright 2015 by Raina Wilde—All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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  Raised From the Flames

  Sabrina Maxwell lay back on the towel, covering the pale sand that cradled her curvaceous body in an embrace warmed from the midday sun. She ran a hand down the smooth fabric of her solid black, one-piece bathing suit. Sabrina closed her eyes and let the gentle cadence of the Caribbean waves breaking on the beach lull her into a peaceful nothingness. She would not have said she slept, but rested somewhere between a dream state and reality. A smile crossed her angular features. The sweet enjoyment of relaxation finally began to settle over her and she decided to make the very best of this unconventional vacation.

  Months of planning had gone into this island getaway with Lilly Hendrickson, Sabrina’s best friend and fellow nurse. They had scrimped and scavenged for the first vacation that either of them had taken in over a year. In the vast expanse of the Canadian countryside the March weather would be bleak, at best. Here in this small island town the heat of even their coldest months was enough to drive Sabrina to shed her clothing and live on the edges of the clear blue-green water. Her curly dark hair was pulled irreverently into a high bun in an attempt to stave off the effects of the humidity. After two days on the island, Sabrina had given up any hope of controlling the frizzy mop that faced her in the mirror each morning.

  Lilly’s hair had not been the least affected by the island climate. In fact, her golden waves had been little less than fabulous prior to her emergency departure the night before. Lily had been forced to abandon the vacation in order to return home to assist after the birth of her sister’s twin boys. The premature babies had come as a very early surprise shortly after their arrival in the Caribbean. Sabrina had counseled Lilly to return home to be with her family. Promising that she would not take the abandonment to heart, she had stayed on to finish out her vacation alone, knowing full well that Lilly felt poorly enough about the change of plans without including the guilt of requiring Sabrina to abandon her vacation as well.

  Sabrina was determined to make the best of it, if only to reassure her friend when she finally returned home in a little over a week. The truth was that she was actually enjoying the slow rhythm of the Caribbean lifestyle. Her fast paced nursing schedule left very little time for simple relaxations or hobbies. Sabrina was enjoying this chance to simply savor the life that had been so gloriously preserved just for her.

  Memories of her near death four years before flashed in the back of her mind, but the sharp edges of those thoughts were now dulled by the serenity and thankfulness which professional counseling had helped her to achieve. Four years ago Sabrina had lost everything that she had held dear. In a blaze of fire on Christmas Eve, Sabrina’s childhood home had burned to the ground, destroying every precious inch of her parent’s home. They had told her that the smoke inhalation had taken her parents lives before the fire had ravaged their bodies; that their deaths had been painless in their sleep. Sabrina, trapped on the second floor, had awoken to the sound of the windows bursting in the heat. She had survived long enough for fire fighters to arrive—barely. She had been told that one man had carried her unconscious body, wrapped in a fireproof blanket, down the blazing staircase and out of the home only moments before the entire building had collapsed.

  After her extensive recovery, Sabrina had spent nearly a year trying to track the heroic fire fighter down to thank him for saving her life, but she had been unsuccessful in all of her attempts at contact. Her therapist felt that expressing her gratitude to the man that had saved her life would be the final step in the healing process that would enable her to put the trauma of the past fully behind her.

  According to the Fire Chief, the man had been transferred to a larger city shortly afterward. The Chief refused to divulge any personal or location information without permission from the man himself. Sabrina was only given his name, Charlie Thompson, a name so common that her search was effectively driven to a halt.

  Sabrina continued to lie in the sun for half an hour before the tightening of her sensitive, mocha skin guided her back toward the elegant resort. She savored the bright colors of the décor that enlivened the lobby and social spaces, enjoying the way her coral, floor-length, sundress seemed designed to live in this room. Enormous bouquets of local flora stood in hand painted pots that flanked the entrance. The walls and paintings seemed to burst with life and energy in a way that the neutral design of her quaint home would never achieve without this picturesque tropical backdrop. With a grin she dug through her bag for her room key, walking blindly through what she thought was an empty lobby.

  The luggage that stood beside the checkin counter took her out at the knees. She would have landed face first on the cool tile floor if the stranger beside it had not caught her efficiently around the waist and, allowing her a moment to untangle her legs and skirt from around his suitcase, set her with purposeful care back upon her feet.

  Sabrina felt a flush rise on her lightly freckled cheeks. She looked up into the steel gray eyes of the man before her, watching as his gaze contracted in evaluation of her face. He did not smile or laugh in the way that Sabrina would have expected from the absurd situation. Instead, his serious nature seemed to weigh heavily between them. Sabrina intoned a quiet thanks before bowing her head and moving past him toward the elevators.

  As she waited for the metallic gate to open, Sabrina cast a sideways glance at the stranger. He seemed much too serious to be visiting the island for pleasure. She wondered what sort of business would bring him to this place of calm and relaxation. As the gate clanged open, Sabrina took a moment to wonder what his face would look like with a smile. He was, except for the scowl, an attractive man. His rich brown hair was beginning to show a light dusting of grey. Sabrina would estimate him in his early thirties and despite his trousers and collared shirt, she could tell that he was in peak physical condition. His grey eyes had been both intelligent and full of a force that she could not define at that moment. She entered the lift and punched in the number for her floor.

  Sabrina pursed her lips. Sometimes, she told herself, people who had not experienced a trauma like her own seemed unable to grasp the beauty of life around them. Perhaps she had caught him in a bad moment, but she had seen very little light of happiness behind his formidable glare.

  That evening Sabrina saw the man perched on a barstool at the resort restaurant where she was taking her dinner. He was sipping slowly on a pale amber drink and seemed completely absorbed in the book that lay on the bar in front of him. He was clearly not interested in being bothered.

  She considered sitting beside him, as they were the only guests in the room without companions, but decided against it. Instead, she seated herself a few stools away before ordering her meal and a frozen drink whose name she could not pronounce. Sabrina chatted casually with the bartender and a few other patrons before her meal arrived, at which point she was pleased to listen to the band of live musicians that had taken up residence on the opposite side of the room.

  She
could not understand the words to the song that they were singing but from the tones of the lead vocalist and the agonizing pull of the music she could guess that it told a tale of the most devastating heartbreak.

  By the time Sabrina had finished her meal the dance floor had filled and the restaurant was gearing up for a night of entertainment. She was contemplating going up to her room for a leisurely bath and a book of her own when the bartender gave a brief shout to crowd.

  “Charlie Thompson, you have a phone call.” He announced.

  The man over whose bag she had tripped earlier that day closed his book with a sigh and held his hand out for the cordless device. He placed a hand over his opposite ear and spoke in short bursts into the phone.

  Sabrina could not resist eavesdropping. The name alone had caused her heart to beat at an irregular pace. She knew that the name was common and yet hope welled in her soul.

  “Yeah, Chief. I’m here.” He muttered. Sabrina nearly jumped out of her chair at the title. Could he mean Fire Chief? She mentally took back all of the negative thoughts she had about him earlier. Please, please be him, she thought.

  There was a pause as he listened.

  “OK. No, I haven’t decided.” He was staring with unblinking eyes and clear frustration at the counter beneath his elbows. Sabrina found herself holding her breath as she tried not to miss his low tones. “I’ll let you know. OK. Bye.”

  When Charlie Thompson handed the telephone back to the bartender, it was all Sabrina could do not to rush over and confront him with her excitement. She took a slow breath and reminded herself not to bombard the man with her enthusiasm. As she watched him lazily spin the book in circles on the bar top, fear and uncertainty caused her to hesitate.

  He did not seem like a very approachable man. She had no actual memory of her hero, but had imagined him as a charismatic and energetic being with a passion for saving lives. Somehow, the Charlie Thompson sitting beside her did not fit that image. Additionally, Sabrina, having given up all hope of contacting the heroic firefighter, did not even know what to say.

  Hi, my name is Sabrina, you probably don’t remember me but I’m pretty sure you saved my life four years ago. Fancy seeing you here on this island! I know you’re probably on vacation, and I swear I’m not trying to be creepy, but I’ve been looking for you for a long time and I just wanted to say thanks. OK, have a nice life.

  Sabrina giggled to herself at the rambling dialogue that was flowing through her imagination. Years before, the scenarios that had played out in her head had been much different than the reality of awkwardly approaching a man in a random Caribbean bar. She had almost talked herself out of it when he signaled the bartender for another drink.

  She straightened her shoulders, ran a tentative hand down her green wrap-dress and scooted down to the bench directly beside her prey. She signaled the bartender for a refreshment of her own before turning to the man beside her.

  He was staring at her as if she were a bomb that he wanted nothing to do with but was forced to diffuse. She thrust a hand between them and smiled.

  “Sabrina Maxwell.” She offered, watching his face for any sign of recognition. It remained frozen in its look of surprise while he cautiously shook her hand and mumbled his name.

  She made small talk for a few minutes until he finally settled back into his chair and began casually contributing to the conversation. He was not particularly forthcoming, but he did eventually provide that he was a Canadian citizen as well as a professional firefighter. All clues pointed to this being her guy but Sabrina still could not find a way to broach the topic that was eating at her insides.

  He was purposely evading any of her attempts to lead the conversation down the path of his profession. Sabrina was not sure why, but she got the feeling that Charlie Thompson was less than impressed with his own courageous actions. As long as she kept the conversation impersonal they got on beautifully. He even laughed a few times and the effect was startling. Sabrina watched as his entire face lit up, hinting at a personality that may have once been less plagued by his current serious nature. The skin around his eyes crinkled in a way that made Sabrina want to smooth the skin with her fingers. He flashed straight, white teeth and released a deep chuckle that elicited a strange response deep inside Sabrina’s stomach. A fluttering of wings would have been her juvenile description.

  She found that she actually liked him. He was smart and witty, sarcastic in a lighthearted and self-depreciating way. In fact, Sabrina found that she was pleased to pass the time merely chatting with him. If it had not been for her search for the firefighter, she would never have approached him and she was now finding that, whether or not he was, she was glad to have met this man.

  A few drinks later, Sabrina’s hesitations began to seem trivial.

  “What’s your favorite thing about being a firefighter?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he laughed. “I used to love everything about it.”

  “But you don’t anymore?”

  “I’m not sure.” He spoke with complete honesty. Sabrina was unsure if she should proceed but decided to press forward anyway.

  They were sitting at the bar munching on a shared plate of fries when Sabrina finally turned to him with a serious expression on her face.

  “Can I be perfectly honest with you?” She plunged in directly.

  He shrugged in a way that encouraged her to continue.

  “I came over here because I recognized your name.” She began. He raised an eyebrow. “It just so happens that four years ago I was rescued from a burning house by a firefighter named Charlie Thompson, and I was wondering if it might have been you?” Sabrina sat back and watched his expression. She could tell that he was wracking his memory for recognition of her face and coming up emptyhanded. That wasn’t surprising as he had seen her covered head-to-toe in soot.

  “What did you say your last name was?” He spoke in a soft voice, his eyes narrowed on her face. Sabrina was having a hard time reading his response. It appeared to her a mix between caution, anxiety, and possibly even regret. Could that be correct?

  “Maxwell.” He looked confused for another moment before his brain lit upon the name.

  “Will and Mary Maxwell.” His voice was monotonous, almost as if he were reading a report. He was looking in her direction but Sabrina could tell that he was not seeing her. His vision was focused inward on the memory that was playing over in his mind. “Mid-Sixties couple died from smoke inhalation before we could get their bodies out of the fire. Their only daughter, pulled from the home unconscious. Crushed ribs from a beam across the torso, third-degree burns, possible internal damage, smoke inhalation…” He finally looked at her as if seeing Sabrina for the first time. “critical condition.”

  Sabrina nodded. She knew that her eyes were wide and sad at the technical description of the worst day of her life. When she had awoken in the hospital two days later the doctor had listed her injuries in a similar way, except that he had informed her that she was lucky to have no internal damage or bleeding from the weight of the beam that had landed across her body.

  “It was you.” She stated. It seemed as if all sound and movement around them had stopped. Sabrina felt the aching slowness of each passing second as she and Charlie stared at each other.

  He drained his drink and ran a hand over the shadow of stubble that had accumulated on his chin. Sabrina did not know what response to expect from him. She had anticipated so many scenarios and yet now all she could do was wait in silence for his reply.

  “I’m sorry.” He groaned. This response was the furthest thing from anything that she had expected and Sabrina was taken aback. His apology spoke of more than sympathy or pity for her loss, but rather of a deep regret and personal accountability that he seemed to feel was his need to convey.

  Sabrina tilted her head and tried to process what he would have to feel guilty for. He was the reason that she was alive today. He should be proud, just as she was grateful. She laid a hand so
ftly on his forearm.

  “I’ve wanted to thank you.” She tried to catch his eye but he was looking at his hands. “To tell you how grateful I am that you saved my…”

  She never got a chance to finish the statement because he stood up with sudden force, laid a roll of bills on the counter and made a quick excuse to leave. He turned on his heel and exited the restaurant with such speed that Sabrina was forced to jog to catch up to him as he crossed the outdoor patio.

  “Charlie,” she drew up beside him. “please, wait.”

  When he turned to face her there was pure agony in his eyes. Sabrina was grateful that they were standing beside the empty pool rather than inside of the crowded restaurant where onlookers might have witnessed his pain.

  He brushed a hair away from her face and shook his head.

  “I’m so sorry.” He repeated. “I couldn’t save them.” His breath rushed out at the end as if it had been held for far too long. Sabrina now understood. She wondered for how long he had been carrying this burden, and for how many lives that he could never have saved.

  Sabrina saw this all the time in her fellow nurses, had even experienced moments of it herself before the fire had helped her to understand. She did the only thing she could to help him see that her parent’s deaths were accidents, not the responsibility of any one person.

  “You saved me.” Sabrina stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She would have expected it to feel strange, or awkward, to be embracing a complete stranger. Yet, somehow, perhaps because of their intense history the moment was beautiful and tender. She hoped that the gesture could convey all that she was trying to say, she was unsure, until she felt his arms join behind her back and his chin rest upon the crown of her head.

  After a short pause, he placed his hands upon her shoulders and leaned her back to look at him.