Free An Accidental Family by Loree Lough Page B

the sight was so horrible that—
    “Isn’t gonna be easy, looking at what’s left.”
    No, she didn’t suppose it would be. “I can take it. And if I can’t, you’ll be right there to rescue me.”
    He tucked in one corner of his mouth and shrugged, and she took that to mean he didn’t know what to make of her snappish tone. Nadine felt horrible, particularly considering all he’d done for her and the kids. “Sorry,” she said, meaning it. “That was uncalled for.”
    “I’ll just blame the headache.”
    She frowned. “How’d you know I have a headache?” The doctor had given her pain pills, but the throbbing hadn’t started up in earnest until her head was hanging in Kaye’s shampoo sink.
    “I’ve taken a few whacks to the head in my day,” he said, patting her hand, “so I know from personal experience that the so-called pain relievers the docs dole out don’t come close to easing the pain.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold your cantankerousness against you.”
    Before she could respond, he turned into her driveway. Almost immediately, the acrid scent of charred lumber assailed her nostrils. When the remains of the farmhouse came into view, she tried to stifle a gasp behind her hands. Nadine had seen the aftermath of house fires before, so what had she expected?
    Certainly not this, Nadine thought. Certainly not nothing left at all.
    Things had happened fast last night, too fast. As she’d fought to remain conscious, she hadn’t been able to distinguish between flames and the strobes of emergency vehicles. Men shouted, but she hadn’t understood a word. Only Lamont’s voice, low and soothing, reached her: “Everything’s gonna be okay, pretty lady. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”
    That bump on the head must have caused a disconnect between her brain and her mouth, because, hard as she’d tried, Nadine couldn’t reassure him by saying, “Thanks” or “I know.” The inability to communicate had scared her. Was it permanent? How would she read to Amy, or sing in the choir? To keep him from seeing fear in her eyes, she’d closed them. Well, that, and because during those moments in his arms, she’d read the concern on his face, and hadn’t wanted to add to his worries. She remembered how cold and alone she’d felt, despite being surrounded by experienced paramedics. Remembered, too, how helpless and troubled he’d looked as they took her from his arms. Nadine remembered all that, but she didn’t recall seeing the house ablaze.
    Now, heart knocking against her ribs, she blinked back tears and held her breath. Thin wisps of smoke still spiraled from spongy, sooty ashes amid jagged black spikes—some no more than three feet tall—that had supported the walls and roof of her two-story home.
    She opened the passenger door and stepped onto grass, still wet from fire hoses. The doctor had said to expect headaches and light-headedness. He hadn’t mentioned ringing in the ears, or the sweaty-yet-cold-all-over sensation that now prickled her skin.
    Lamont’s strong arm slid around her waist. How he’d reached her so quickly she didn’t know, but Nadine said a little prayer of thanks. Had he pulled her close, or had dizziness made her lean into his hard, lean body? He stepped in front of her, gently gripped her biceps and, bending his knees, peered into her face. “You okay?”
    “Yeah. Sorry.”
    Drawing her into a comforting hug, he kissed the top of her head. “Aw, darlin’, whatever for?”
    For behaving like a child, she thought. For getting weak-kneed and teary-eyed. Nadine pressed both palms against the soft fabric of his white shirt, then took a step back.
    Nerves twitching, she plodded ahead, until she stood ankle-deep in the debris. Heat seeped through the soles of her shoes, even after all these hours and the hundreds of gallons of water that sogged the ashes. What could have caused a fire that burned so incredibly hot and fast?
    Everything, it seemed, had