Welsh Wildfire Read online

  “It is.” She removed the stiches and checked his hand. “Have you had a chance to visit anywhere in the week you’ve been here? Or has it been all work and no play?”

  “I went up your mountain on Sunday. The weather was a little odd, though.”

  She grinned. “Oh yes. It can be sunny one minute, foggy the next. That’s if it isn’t raining half way up and sunny at the top.”

  He nodded. “That sounds about right. It was worth it for the views from the peak, though.”

  “I haven’t climbed Snowdon in years, but yes, the view is amazing. Did you walk or take the train?” Her fingers probed gently as she spoke.

  “I did both. Walked up and since I’d never been on a steam train, took that back down.”

  “If you like steam trains, you should check out the Blaenau Ffestiniog railway. That’s nothing but steam trains.”

  “I’ll do that.” He paused. “Something to cross off my bucket list.”

  She raised an eyebrow, her pretty face creasing. “Aren’t you a little young for a bucket list?”

  Warmth shot up his arm from where she held his hand. “Life is too short not to do things when the opportunity comes along.” He cleared his throat. His recent brush with death had taught him that lesson. “My brother and I made lists on our twenty-first birthdays. Figured I may as well cross a couple of things off while I was here. You should try it. It’s fun.” He winked. “And a good excuse to do stuff you otherwise wouldn’t get around to doing.”

  She looked back at his hand. “This is looking good. It’s healed nicely. Just keep it clean for a few more days and you’re good. But you don’t need to come back again.”

  Josh glanced at her. “Would you like dinner tonight?”

  The instant the words were out he was kicking himself. Whatever had he done that for? He didn’t need her or the complication or anything else for that matter.

  She held his gaze. “I’m your doctor. I can’t date a patient. Or have dinner with them,” she added—far too quickly in his opinion.

  “Not anymore you’re not. You just said I don’t need to come back.” He flexed his hand. OK, enough already. Stop asking her out and insisting on it. But the other side of his brain, the part he had no control over wasn’t going to let up. “But being someone’s doctor would preclude you from dating anyone in town, wouldn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” she said quietly. “But right now I’m your landlady. This is a small town and people will talk.”

  Josh rolled his eyes. He didn’t want any more excuses; the color in her cheeks was enough to tell him that she wanted this as much as he did. “So, how about it?” he persisted. “I owe you dinner after all. I’ll cook. No one will think anything of it if we eat in the house. They don’t have to know it’s not a landlady-tenant thing, do they?”

  “OK,” Jess said, finally letting go of his hand. “I’ll be over about seven.”

  He smiled, shoving down the disappointment at the way his hand suddenly felt cold. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  ****

  Just before seven, Josh stood in the garden flipping the steaks on the grill. There was something universal about a barbecue. Something his father had done a lot and instilled in both him and his brother as the man’s job. Women made the salad while men grilled steak, drank beer, and discussed politics and football.

  And there had been plenty of politics over the years. It was par for the course given what his father did, but it had paid off. His father didn’t grill in the backyard as much as he used to, so when he did it was more of an occasion.

  Josh glanced up to find Jess leaning against the back door frame watching him. She’d changed. Her shirt touched in all the right places—its delicate pale blue accentuating the color of her eyes. Her patchwork, ankle-length skirt had an inch of lace showing beneath it, and he fought the desire to find some country music and start a line dance. Toes with pale blue polish peeped from suede sandals. She was beautiful. And not just outwardly. She shone with an inner beauty.

  He smiled, aware that he was staring at her, but then she wasn’t letting up her gaze from him. Had he spilled something on his shirt or jeans? Had he remembered to put clean jeans on? Had he forgotten to comb his hair? Or was she simply appraising him the same way he was her? “Hey, been there long?”

  “Not too long. I’m just admiring a man in an apron who knows how to cook.”

  He glanced down at the apron and grimaced. “Even if it is pink and has a teddy bear on it? It was either this or a green one with flowers.”

  “That’s because it’s Mam or I that cook. The apron you’re wearing is mine.” She winked. “But it looks good on you. Where did you learn to cook?”

  “All American men can grill. It’s in the blood. Like making salad is in women’s.”

  “You said you were born in Scotland. That makes you Scottish not American.”

  “I’m both.” He flipped the steaks. “Dual nationality, remember?”

  She grinned. “Is that so you get to celebrate all the holidays? Robert Burns night, bonfire night, Independence Day and so on?”

  He swallowed hard. That was one holiday he was trying to forget. “Something like that, yeah.”

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “There’s salad and juice in the fridge. Plates and glasses are on the side. You can bring them out if you like.”

  Jess tilted her head. “I thought women made the salad.”

  He grinned. “This one came in a packet ready made from the supermarket. You need to open the bag and put it in a bowl. Then it is made by a woman.”

  Jess rolled her eyes and choked back a giggle as she headed inside for an instant to pick them up.

  “Da rang,” she called through the open door. “He sounded better than he has in a long time.”

  “When are they back? There was something important I needed to discuss.”

  “End of the week I think, depending on whether they stay a couple of nights in New York or not. Why?”

  “The ivy around the cottage is dying. If it isn’t removed it might bring the whole wall down.”

  She appeared in the doorway, her face creased in concern. “Show me.”

  “Sure.” He sprinkled water on the steaks and turned them. They’d be fine for a couple of minutes.

  Josh led her around the front and located the damaged brickwork. “I can remove the ivy and repair the bricks, but it’s your home, not mine.”

  “Do it,” Jess said without hesitation. “I’ll call Da tomorrow, but he’ll say the same thing. And honestly Mam will be relieved. She hates the ivy and says it encourages the spiders into the house.”

  “And does it?” he asked as they headed around the back again.

  “Oh, yeah. Way too many of the creaduriaid bach cas.”

  “I assume that’s not a good thing?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He checked the grill. “These are done.”

  Jess gave him the plates then uncovered the salad. She poured the juice into the glasses.

  Josh brought over the plates and set them on the table. He sat and picked up the salad offering it to her. Then he froze. She sat with her eyes closed, hands together, and her lips moving. She was saying grace. He looked down at his plate. He didn’t remember the last time he’d done that.

  Correction. He knew exactly when it was—July fourth. Six weeks and six days.

  The bowl lifted from his hands, her cool fingers touching his for an instant. “Thank you. This looks good. My kind of salad—comes with a little bit of everything.”

  “Like I said, it came from a packet. Dad taught me how to grill. Not that he gets much chance to do it now. He works all the time.” Before she could ask any more questions, he cut into his steak and turned the tables on her. “So, what about your family?”

  “Mam and Da you know about. Their names are Lyneth and Gareth. I have a brother, Broderic, and a sister, Morgana.”

  “How come you have an En
glish name?” He studied her over his fork. “I mean the others are so obviously Welsh.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I go by half my first name as it’s double-barreled. My full name is Olwyn-Jessica. But that is too much of a mouthful, so I shortened it to Jess and it’s stuck. Everyone calls me that, bar my parents who call me Olwyn. Except when I’m in trouble, when it’s Olwyn-Jessica Rhiannon Thomas.”

  Josh grinned. “I think some things are universal. I’m Josiah Franklin Wilson; or as Dad puts it, JosiahFranklinWilson—all in one word.”

  She laughed. “Anyway, Broderic teaches history at Cardiff University. Morgana is a staff sergeant in the RAF. I’m the youngest. We see each other maybe two or three times a year, depending where Morgana is posted. Right now she’s in Kuwait and we probably won’t see her until Christmas.”

  His heart pounded as she talked. Kuwait was one of the safer deployments, but it still carried risks. No one should lose anyone they loved. He helped himself to more salad. “What was it like growing up?”

  “Great fun. We’d have Mam in tears of laughter every Sunday tea time, although we could never remember afterwards what was so funny. She’d always be in the kitchen ironing or cooking when we got home from school each night. We’d go away on holiday every other year. It was good. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Your family. You must have one. So do you have just parents and a brother? Or is there a sister or a wife around somewhere?”

  Josh scowled. She couldn’t just drop it, could she? “No sister or wife. Dad’s American, Mom’s Scottish. I have a brother, but I haven’t…”

  He broke off, unable to lie. He wanted to say he hadn’t seen them in a long time, but he’d been with his parents right up until he’d fled the States last week. “…spoken to them in a while,” he finished.

  Well, since he’d arrived this side of the pond anyway.

  “Why not?”

  “My parents are in DC and my brother’s in Arizona. And my parents are very busy people.” He finished his meat and picked up a slice of bread to mop up the sauce. “What will you do when your parents get back?”

  She looked at him.

  “Move back here or keep living over the surgery?” he explained.

  “I’ll move back home. We’ll be chaperoned, and it’ll all be perfectly proper.”

  Josh raised an eyebrow.

  “Small town,” Jess grinned. “You’ll understand one day, if you’re here long enough. You can’t do anything without the whole world knowing about it.”

  “Maybe I understand better than you think,” he muttered.

  His pager went off. Josh didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. “I thought Sam said this was a quiet town.”

  “It usually is.”

  “I’ve been here over a week and been called out almost every day.” He stood. “I should go.”

  “You should.”

  He hesitated, unsure whether to ask her out again or not. But properly this time, give his heart time to adjust to her being there, find out what he wanted. Whether he should even consider staying longer. “I’ll see you around.”

  Jess smiled. “I’d like that. Now, run.”

  “Aye.” He turned and ran to the door.

  ****

  Four hours later Josh flopped onto his bed, the windows wide open. There was no breeze, just hot, airless humidity. He shifted. When the weather was like this back home, it only meant one thing. A storm was coming. And not a simple thunder storm either. A thunder storm which brought with it a whirlwind of terror, destruction, and death.

  A scuffling sound came from outside the window. Lying still, he listened. The sound came again.

  He rose and crept over to the window. He couldn’t see anything, but the noise was louder. Sliding his feet into his shoes, he grabbed the flashlight, and headed outside. “Hello?”

  The light illuminated a small foot under one of the shrubs along the edge of the house. Josh moved over to it. “Hello? Are you all right?” He pushed the leaves aside and the flashlight illuminated a small child, no more than six or seven. Tears streaked her face. At least he assumed the kid was a “her” from the long hair.

  “What’s your name?” he asked gently. He didn’t get an answer. “Are you hurt?” Still no reply. “I can’t help if you won’t speak to me.”

  The child pointed to her leg.

  Josh shone the flashlight on it, lighting up the blood-stained sock.

  “You’ve cut yourself. Are you looking for the doctor? She isn’t here, but I can take you to her.” He held out a hand. “I won’t hurt you.”

  The child pulled back, her hands moving quickly.

  Josh frowned and shone the light on her hands. “I won’t hurt you,” he repeated.

  The movements of her hands were deliberate—sign language. Balancing the flashlight on a stone, he angled it so she could see his own hands, and replied in sign language. “My name is Josh,” he said, speaking and signing. “What’s yours?”

  “Bryony,” came the signed reply. “Want Doctor Jess.”

  “I can take you to her. She’s at the surgery.” He held his arms out to her and she let him lift her. As he walked, she snuggled into him, sniffling and whimpering.

  Josh hurried over to his rental car and secured the child inside. When he reached the office, he lifted Bryony from the car, and pounded on the door. “Jess!” he yelled. “Jess, open the door. I need some help out here.”

  The door opened and Jess stood there in her pyjamas. “What’s wrong?”

  Josh shoved aside the fact she looked just as pretty with bed hair and PJs on as she did in her white doctor’s coat. “I found her in the bushes outside your place and she’s hurt. She was asking for you.”

  “Bring her in. Take her though to the exam room while I throw on some clothes.”

  Josh carried the small child through reception, backed through the door to the exam room, and sat her on the bed.

  “Don’t leave me,” she signed.

  “I won’t. I’m going to sit right here next to you.” He hoisted himself up beside her.

  Jess came back in to the room. “Bryony?”

  “You know her?” Josh asked.

  She nodded, crossing the room quickly. “She’s Sam’s daughter, but she doesn’t speak. She hasn’t for about three years now. She communicates through sign language.”

  “I worked that one out myself. Is she deaf?”

  “I don’t know. Sam won’t let us do the tests to find out.” She looked at Bryony, signing as she spoke. “May I look at your leg?”

  Bryony nodded.

  Jess turned her attention to the cut. “Soon as I’m done here I need to call her parents. What happened?”

  Josh tapped Bryony’s arm and signed to her. He translated the reply for Jess to save her having to stop what she was doing. “She was following a cat along the wall by the church when she lost her balance and fell off.”

  “Not very clever,” Jess commented. She reached for a bandage to keep the gauze in place.

  He shook his head. “Cats are good at walls,” he told Bryony. “Humans, not so much.”

  “I want to be in a circus,” she replied.

  Josh laughed. “Apparently she’s planning on joining the circus.”

  Jess frowned. “Do you mind sitting with her while I go and ring her parents? The last thing I want is her running off again before they get here. Angharad doesn’t need any more stress right now.”

  “We’re not going anywhere.” He turned his attention back to the little girl as Jess’s footsteps headed across the room. “So what are you going to do in the circus?” he signed.

  “Tightrope.”

  “Really? But you can’t even balance on a wall.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “I can practice.”

  “Well, I want to be a lion tamer when I grow up.”

  Bryony shook her head. “You are grown up.”

  He laughed. “And how old are you?
”

  She held up eight fingers then pointed at him.

  “Thirty-four, but—”

  “That’s old.”

  Jess laughed as she came back into the room. “You tell him. Sam’s on his way to pick her up.”

  “Good. What’s she doing out this time of night anyway?”

  Jess shrugged. “She’s a wild one. Always has been, but recently, it’s just gotten worse.”

  Josh looked at Bryony. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he signed slowly.

  “Not tired,” she shot back. “Mam was cross so I ran away. Found the kitty and followed it.”

  “Then fell off the wall.”

  “Kitty fell too. We have to find her.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Sam came into the room, anger creasing his normally placid face. “Bryony Jones what are you playing at?” he yelled. “Have you any idea how worried your Mam is? And that’s not good for her with the baby coming.”

  Bryony hid her face in Josh’s shirt.

  Sam drew in a deep breath. “Where did you find her?”

  “Over at my place,” Josh said. “Well, technically it’s Jess’s place. Bryony was in the garden looking for a cat and Jess.” He caught sight of Jess rolling her eyes and wondered what he’d said. “When I realized she’d hurt herself I brought her here, rather than the police station. I figured that way Jess could treat her and know who to call, as this being a small town and her being the doc, she’s bound to know everyone.”

  “Thank you.” Sam tugged at Bryony. “Time to go home,” he yelled.

  Jess took a deep breath, trying to get between the two men. “Shouting won’t make her hear you any better,” she said.

  Josh loosened Bryony’s grip on him. “Time to go home with Daddy. I’ll look for the cat in the morning, but I think you’ll find she’s made her own way home to bed by now.” He ruffled her hair. “Perhaps you should teach Daddy how to sign.”

  “He knows sign, but says I should talk properly again.”

  Sam tugged her arm. “Come on!”

  Josh frowned. “Sam, can I have a quick word while Jess takes Bryony to find one of those I-was-really-good-at-the-doctor’s stickers she’ll have somewhere?”

  Jess took the hint and held out a hand to Bryony. “Let’s go find a sticker.”