The firefighters heartwi.., p.1
The Firefighter's Heartwish, page 1
The Firefighter's Heartwish
Heartwishes, Volume 3
Daisy Dexter Dobbs
Published by Department of Daydreams, 2022.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE FIREFIGHTER'S HEARTWISH
First edition. July 26, 2022.
Copyright © 2022 Daisy Dexter Dobbs.
ISBN: 978-1587850615
Written by Daisy Dexter Dobbs.
Also by Daisy Dexter Dobbs
Heartwishes
The Viking's Heartwish (Coming Soon)
The Genie's Heartwish (Coming Soon)
The Firefighter's Heartwish (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at Daisy Dexter Dobbs’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Daisy Dexter Dobbs
Dedication
Book Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
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Further Reading: The Knitter's Heartwish
Also By Daisy Dexter Dobbs
About the Author
Dedication
This special story is dedicated to victims of child abuse—those who survived (and hopefully thrived), as well as those who didn’t. As a survivor myself, this subject matter is especially close to my heart. While I wholeheartedly wish for adults to stop abusing innocent children, as an optimistic realist I know that’s not about to happen. Alternately, I wish for all abused children to be able to connect with kind, caring individuals who can help and protect them; and for those kids to learn coping mechanisms to help them reach adulthood with as few lasting emotional scars as possible. As with all of my books, The Firefighter’s Heartwish concludes with a satisfying happily ever after. Mixed with the inevitable pain that comes with abuse, this story is filled with great love, joy, hope, and humor—as well as some special heavenly intervention in the form of little Harold’s angel—along the way to that rewarding ending. My greatest wish is for happy endings to be the case in real life for all those whose lives have been touched by abuse.
Book Description
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Gard Malone is still reeling from a tragic accident in Antarctica that took the life of his best friend. The glaciologist and parttime firefighter blames himself for failing to save him. After being cloistered for months with little more than icebergs, glaciers and his own dark thoughts, Gard is home again, surrounded by cheery, chatty friends and family determined to brighten his spirits, when all he wants is to be left alone.
At the café, Gard meets an adorable five-year-old, Harold, who’s drawing a picture of Hark, his special angel. The boy stutters, much the same as Gard did at that age. Listening to Harold sing the Christmas carol about him and his angel, the cute occurrence of mistaken song lyrics makes Gard smile. That smile extends when he looks up into the face of an angel, a striking redhead with the same big blue eyes as Harry.
Sabrina Hanklen, sister of the café’s owner, is thankful for her new job as a server, and immensely grateful she finally gathered the courage to file for divorce, leave her husband, and move across the country with her little boy, returning to her hometown of Glassfloat Bay. Her husband’s abuse is responsible for Harry being developmentally delayed.
Distracted by the good-natured, ruggedly handsome man patiently giving her son the positive attention he craves, Sabrina can’t help wonder what life would be like with a good man in her and Harry’s life. Her idyllic daydreams are disrupted by the surprise arrival of the one person she never wants to see again.
This is a story about a Christmas miracle that touches many lives.
The Firefighter’s Heartwish is book 3 of the Heartwishes series. This full-length contemporary romance novel is full of warmth and humor—with a very special touch of magic and a healthy dose of fantasy. It’s inspired by the author’s previously published short story, The Harold Angel. While all Heartwishes books are part of a standalone series, you’ll enjoy them more if you read them in order. These are small town romances with happily-ever-afters, and no cliffhangers.
(This book contains scenes of child and domestic abuse.)
Chapter One
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“HANG ON, TIM. I’ve got you. I won’t let go.” Coiling the rope around one hand and arm, Gard Malone held the cord tight with both hands, determined not to let his closest friend fall to his death. “Wally’s getting an extra rope so you can prusik up the second line.”
“Can’t do it, Gard. Feels like both legs and one of my arms are broken. Can’t really move... back might be broken too. I’m hanging here like a damn, useless rag doll.”
Hearing the extent of Tim’s injuries, Gard shuddered. Tim was so far down the yawning crevasse Gard couldn’t see him. He could barely even hear him.
“Can you see a ledge?”
“Nothing,” Tim answered. “There’s no support. Just a straight drop.”
As experienced glaciologists, Gard and his crew knew the importance of avoiding falls. More importantly, they knew it was easier to stay out of Antarctica’s crevasses than to rescue someone from one of the icy, yawning chasms.
Nonetheless, Tim McKevitt had plummeted deep into a crevasse. Hidden beneath a thin bridge of blown snow only a few inches thick, the fissure had been invisible and the bridge wouldn’t support the weight of a man.
“Stay with me, buddy. We’ll get you out of there,” Gard promised. “Jack and Tom are on the way with more rescue gear.”
Gard felt a hand on his shoulder. “Gard, the lip of the crevasse looks ready to collapse at any moment,” their fellow glaciologist, Wally, warned him in a subdued voice not loud enough for Tim to hear. “Tim’s too far down. It’s too dangerous. We’ll lose both of you.”
“Damn it, Wally, I’ve got to save him. If we don’t get him out of there soon hypothermia’s going to set in.” They’d radioed the other two members of the crew at the research station, apprising them of the dire situation. Gard prayed they got there in time to help haul Tim out because he didn’t know how much longer he could hold Tim’s weight.
“Jesus, look at your hands,” Wally noted.
Friction from the rope had torn through Gard’s two pairs of gloves, leaving him with bloodied hands. Gard could tell his shoulder was dislocated and he had other injuries, but tending to his own wounds would have to wait. If he eased up on his hold he’d lose Tim.
They’d all worn proper safety equipment, including crash helmets and full body harnesses, tied to heavy ropes as well as to each member of the trekking team which, in this case, amounted to only Gard and Tim. With a broken arm and rib due to an equipment accident, Wally wasn’t able to assist in holding Tim’s weight.
Tim’s fall was stopped by the ropes before he reached the bottom of the crevasse. The problem with this cavity was its boundless depth and lack of ledges or footholds of any kind. Without Tim having a foothold, Gard held Tim’s full dead weight as the man hung suspended.
There was only one thing Gard thought of that might help at this point. “Wally, you think you can help me build an anchor so I can transfer Tim’s weight and rappel down?”
“Yeah, I think so. But you can’t—”
“I’m going to anchor and rappel down, Tim,” Gard called down the chasm.
“No!” Tim hollered. “Too dangerous. Listen, Gard, I’m—”
The horrific sound of Tim shouting out as he slid further down the icy crevasse, along with the snapping sound of cracking ice, chilled Gard to his marrow. Tim’s deep cry of anguish grew more distant as he fell.
“Tim?” Dead silence. “Tim! Don’t give up, man, I’m not going to let you die, you hear me? I’m going to get you out of there.”
“It’s no use. I’m done, Gard,” Tim called from what seemed like miles away. “The rope was sliced on the last fall...not going to hold. Love you, buddy. Don’t blame yourself. Tell Laila I love her and—”
The sound of Tim McKevitt falling deep into the abyss was bloodcurdling.
“Tim! Tim, hold on, I’ve got you!”
But Gard didn’t have him. All he held in his torn hands now was a weightless length of rope...with no one attached at the other end.
“I’ve got you, Tim, I’ve got you!” Gard yelled, abruptly sitting, snapping to attention from his deep sleep and the same nightmare he’d had frequently for the last three years. Drenched in sweat, he raised his knees, resting his elbows on them as he cradled his head in his hands.
His mind still gauzy from sleep, he growled his anguish from the depth of his soul, blaming himself for being unable to save the life of his best friend and his sister’s fiancé.
“Home...Glassfloat Bay...” Gard muttered to himself as a reminder. “I’m here...I’m here...”
Plowing his fingers through his hair, he expelled a deep breath, glancing at the pills on his nightstand, one bottle to control anxiety and the other for pain. He kept them there just in case. There were times he was tempted to pop a couple of pills, but he hated resorting to them. They didn’t do much to ease his pain or anxiety anyway, unless he took the maximum dosage at least. He’d learned early on that the more he took, the more he needed to get the same effect.
For a guy who disliked polluting his body with something as innocuous as aspirin or ibuprofen, Gard knew prescription meds weren’t the answer. Developing a dependency on pills would only create more problems.
His best buddy chose that moment to leap onto the bed, eagerly nuzzling Gard with his wet nose.
“Hey, Tundra, how’s my boy? Happy to be back home and out of that bone chilling cold, I’ll bet, huh?” He mussed the dog’s short black and tan fur and patted his flanks. Tundra went everywhere with Gard, even on his assignments to Antarctica. This last job was a four month stint. They’d been home for a week now. Having Tundra at his side while he was healing from his injuries three years ago and climbing out of the depths of despair, had helped Gard every bit as much as the medication the hospital docs had pumped into him.
Gard’s gaze slid to the digital alarm clock. It was five thirty. “Looks like you’ve decided it’s a good time for our morning run.” Tundra answered with a long lick up the side of Gard’s face. The sizeable canine came from a long line of oversized mutts. It was the family joke that their dogs were part German Shephard, part donkey.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth, Gard made note of his shaggy appearance. His blond hair was well overdue for a cut and the scruffy stubble across his cheeks and chin made him look like a bum. If it were up to him he’d just let the hair and beard grow wild but then he’d be hounded by his mother who’d be convinced he looked like a bum because he was depressed. Maybe she was right. But the last thing he wanted was to do anything that might trigger her motherly scrutiny.
Once outside Bekka House, the family home, Gard jogged the half-mile to the ocean, his faithful dog keeping pace beside him. Along the way he noticed Bekka House was the only place without holiday lights twinkling against the pre-dawn indigo sky. He smiled, recalling how the people in town wasted no time getting fully into the holiday spirit. There was no escaping Christmas in Glassfloat Bay.
It was two days after Thanksgiving. In the past, the day after Thanksgiving marked the annual Malone family Christmas decorating frenzy. He and his entire family would pull out all stops to decorate every nook and cranny, inside and out, of the main family home as well as the homes of everyone else in the family. But yesterday he skipped it. All he’d wanted to do was hole up and pretend it was just like any other day of the year. He used to love Christmas but the holiday had lost its luster for him.
His sister, Laila, told him decorations started popping up at the mall right after Halloween this year. Santa had arrived the first week of November, complete with an elaborate setup including pricey photos with Santa as well as T-shirts and other products for sale.
“That’s crazy,” he said as he ran. “Next thing you know Santa will be sharing space with the Easter Bunny.” The money-grubbing aggrandizement of what used to be a joyous, family-oriented time of year disgusted him.
Even so, he knew he needed to get some damn lights strung before his parents and siblings arrived en masse, wearing their godawful Christmas sweaters knitted by his yarn-happy sister Maureen, and gleefully encouraging him to get into the Christmas spirit. He could picture them all singing carols as his brother-in-law, Varik, strummed his guitar.
His mom, Astrid, would have her trusty, decades-old Kodak Instamatic camera in hand, snapping away to memorialize the family gathering just as she did each holiday...and pretty much any other time the opportunity for picture-taking arose. She vastly preferred real photographs you could touch and put in a photo album, to those from a phone.
They’d pass cups of eggnog, spiked cocoa, and hot mulled wine while making merry, threading popcorn, baking ginger cookies, and decorating the family house from top to bottom.
And every one of them would be focused on making Gard feel better.
God how he hated that.
As much as he loved his family, being around them all for Thanksgiving dinner two nights ago was tough. So many questions, so much concern, endless hugs and kisses and positive, encouraging words.
It felt overwhelming, smothering, invasive.
And then there was all the well-intentioned nudging about Gard finding a good woman for himself, along with a full roster of suggestions of all the single prospects in Glassfloat Bay as well as neighboring Wisdom Harbor. He wasn’t interested. Not only was getting involved in another relationship not at the top of his list of priorities, it didn’t even make the list. He was perfectly happy being a bachelor. Good old loyal Tundra was the only companion he needed.
The best part of Thanksgiving was seeing Laila so happy with her husband, Zak, and their baby twins, his niece and nephew, Abby and Gus. For the past three years it had been damned hard looking her in the face after he’d failed to save her fiancé. Of course, Laila would never blame him for what happened. Neither did anyone else he knew...but that didn’t make it any easier for Gard, who still shouldered a weighty sense of responsibility and guilt for the loss of Tim’s life.
Fortunately his sister, Kady, was supposed to be arriving from her overseas backpacking trip soon. That should help take the focus off Gard. His globetrotting little sister had left on her latest trip shortly after moving from Chicago to Glassfloat Bay so the family would be scrambling to show her the town. She’d be staying in one of the bedrooms at Bekka House but Kady usually kept pretty much to herself so Gard wouldn’t have to worry too much about endless chitchat.
With each footfall, he watched the gentle morning waves roll in and out. Relaxing. Hypnotic. Meditative. A helluva lot better than trudging through the snow in his hometown of Chicago, or freezing his ass off in Antarctica.
“I’ve got to get my shit together and stop being the poster boy for the anguished,” he decided.
Gard remembered a time when he was fully on board with all the Christmas jollity. He bought into the magic of it all, loved seeing the awed looks on kids’ faces waiting in line to sit on Santa’s lap. Heck, he was even Glassfloat Bay Mall’s Santa the year before the Antarctica tragedy. Sure it was hot as hell under all the padding necessary to puff out his lean muscled frame but how could he mind when he saw the kids’ joy and excitement?
Back then, the Christmas spirit boldly had Gard in its grip as he enjoyed being in charge of spicing and spiking the anticipated wassail and eggnog.
But now? Now he’d much rather escape into a good first-person shooter videogame than be bothered by all the frivolity.
“Jeez...I’ve turned into Scrooge. Or is it the Grinch? Probably both. Yeah, no doubt about it, I’ve become the Scrinch.”
Focus...he needed to focus on the moment. It was one of the tips he’d learned from his sessions with the therapist. He’d resisted therapy, convinced it was for weaklings and losers who were looking for excuses; for somewhere or someone to place blame rather than accept responsibility for their own decisions. Once it became clear he wouldn’t be able to get his well-meaning mother and stepfather off his back, Gard finally agreed to see a psychologist who worked as a counselor at Wisdom Harbor University.
He could admit today, albeit grudgingly, that his mom and stepdad were right. The twice a month therapy sessions, which were unlike anything he’d expected, had made a positive difference. He only wished he’d started them earlier.
Just let the anxiety go, like sand sifting through your fingers until it’s all adrift in the wind, Dr. Rikard Svenningsen told him. Gard did just that, paying attention to the birth of a new day. There was nothing as majestic as dawn, when the sun climbed over the horizon, painting the sky with swashes of pink, gold and purple as it rose to greet the day...unless it was the magic of a Northwest Pacific coastline sunset.
