Walk Through the Fire Read online

  Walk Through the Fire

  Calle J Brookes

  Lost River Lit Publishing, L.L.C.

  Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Chapter 125

  Chapter 126

  Chapter 127

  Chapter 128

  Chapter 129

  Chapter 130

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon!

  Also by Calle J Brookes

  About the Author

  And both that morning equally lay

  In leaves no step had trodden black.

  Oh, I kept the first for another day!

  Yet knowing way leads on to way,

  I doubted if I should ever come back.

  * * *

  -ROBERT FROST

  1

  Someone had to stop the mayor of Finley Creek before he ruined everything.

  Unfortunately, that someone was going to have to be Annie. Somehow, she had to go into the mayor’s office, appearing confident and knowledgeable. Like she knew what she was saying and meaning, and convince the mayor of Finley Creek not to destroy her neighborhood.

  Somehow. Her.

  Mayor Turner Barratt, and his special Clean Up Boethe Street initiative was about to send Annie and ninety-something neighbors to the streets. The money they were offering was not fair market value, and that hurt. It made her neighbors afraid, desperate, and confused.

  Annie and her family would be ok, thanks to her job and careful financial planning for the last twelve years, but the rest of her friends and neighbors probably wouldn’t.

  The city was about to rip them off. All in the name of progress.

  Her neighbors, Frederick and Gabney Henderson, had lived in their home for sixty years. They didn’t deserve to have a bunch of city councilmen telling them they had to move and that the house they’d loved for most of their lives was in too poor shape to remain standing. Fred had built it with his own two hands.

  Condemned.

  Well, that was a load of crap. Annie’s house might not be in the best of conditions, but she was working to fix that. The Hendersons was in better shape than hers. She’d just had new energy-efficient windows installed two months ago. The roof was less than ten years old. It was sound, livable, and comfortable. It just wasn’t pretty—yet.

  The city wanted her land to put another commercial center on it. Now she had a little over two months to convince the mayor that taking peoples’ homes was not something he wanted to do.

  How was she supposed to convince one of the Barratts of Finley Creek to do anything? She’d already circulated petitions, held protests—that only her two best friends had attended—and written countless letters. None of it had done a bit of good.

  She was almost ready to give up and just accept the hand fate had dealt her.

  There were other houses out there. Moving her entire life somewhere else would probably be easier than dealing with a Barratt.

  The Barratts she knew were bold, forceful, and used to getting their own ways. Even her friend Fin, a second cousin of the Barratts, was more outspoken and better able to do this kind of thing than Annie.

  Annie, who had done her best to blend in her entire life.

  Having a decent home for herself, and now her three little boys, had been her dream since she’d been twelve. No Barratt had the right to take that away from her. She could do this. She could.

  She just had to get in there and get through.

  Annie hurried up the six blocks to city hall from the hospital where she worked, hoping she’d at least be able to beat the rain. Meeting the mayor while disheveled from a twelve-hour shift in the busiest hospital in the city was one thing—she didn’t want to be a little drowned rat, too. She’d carefully applied more makeup in the break room than she normally wore.

  It was now or never.

  Thunder cracked overhead.

  The sky was darkening in a way she didn’t like.

  She was an idiot. She shouldn’t be out here tonight.

  She should be home with her boys. Where she was most needed. It was almost time for their dinner. Then they needed their baths, snuggles and playtime, and put to bed.

  She was needed at home. Time with her boys was her most precious gift, and working twelve-hour shifts three days a week, plus a six-hour day on weekends, meant she didn’t see them nearly as much as she wanted.

  That’s where she needed to be. Not taking
advantage of a weak friend connection to the mayor of Finley Creek.

  This was the only time the mayor had—it was all she was going to get.

  Annie was going to make it work. She just had to convince him of her reasons and stubbornly outwait him. Just get through. She could do stubborn and just outwaiting people. Nothing she hadn’t done before.

  Quiet stubbornness had gotten her this far.

  Just get through had been Annie’s mantra since about the age of four, twenty years ago, when she’d realized her parents honestly didn’t care where she was or what she was doing, as long as she didn’t interfere with what they were doing. She could do this.

  If she didn’t, she and her sons were going to be moving in less than two months. Whether she wanted to or not. Just as their final adoption hearing was approaching.

  Any hitch could delay the adoption, could help her mother get her claws into the boys even stronger. Even once the adoption was final, the boys would have daily subsidies to help with any ongoing needs they might have. Her mother wanted that money.

  Annie would most likely win a court battle—she’d been the primary caregiver for the boys since they’d been placed with them, and she’d been the primary provider. The boys already called her Mommy.

  But her mother was manipulative and determined. She’d make trouble for Annie just for spite. Trouble Annie didn’t need right now, either.

  Annie couldn’t afford to be without a home, a stable, secure, safe home, perfect for three little boys who had nowhere else to go. If her mother’s attorney wanted to, he could make it very difficult for Annie to prove she was the better parent for the boys. Annie and her mother were both listed as foster parents on the boys’ paperwork. But life was a bit different than what was written in black and white.

  She could not lose her boys. The only way to make certain that didn’t happen was getting the adoption final as fast as was legally possible. Then she could worry about moving, if she had to.

  That meant facing down the mayor first.

  If he was the beast she had to face to keep her children, then Annie would face him down with nothing but a toothpick if she had to.

  It almost felt like that.

  Powerful men had always terrified her. Probably from having a powerful father who had liked to use his fists when his daughter didn’t behave exactly as he’d wanted. That had ended when she’d been twelve and he’d almost killed her in her front yard. A police officer with the TSP had saved her life that day.

  She’d grown up fast that night.

  Never would her three little babies face that kind of future.

  Her friend, Jillian, had suggested going straight to the source of her problem. Jillian had insisted Turner Barratt was a good man. That the mayor would listen to her story and would help. If not...Jillian had threatened to sic the man’s cousin on him until there was a resolution. Jillian, a nurse in the same department as Annie, was sister to the cousin’s wife. Jillian had met the mayor many times, she’d said. And she’d promised he was reasonable. And a good person. Jillian trusted him.

  Annie was reserving judgment.

  Annie appreciated it, and she’d take Jillian up on the offer if it was needed, but she needed to solve this on her own first. Make sure it was strong and real and complete.

  If she handled it herself, then she could control all the variables. If she’d learned anything in her life, it was that easy answers brought far too many conditions.

  The receptionist was leaving when Annie stepped into the foyer. She gave a friendly smile. Annie felt herself relax a little. “Miss Gaines? Mayor Barratt is waiting. Head on back. I’ve taken some water in there already. And cookies. He’s a sucker for cookies. Give him some chocolate chip cookies, and he’s putty in your hands for hours.”

  “I’ll…remember that.” Some of Annie’s tension lessened, but only a little. The woman was about her mother’s age—but had a kind look in her eyes. She looked like she' spent most of her time baking those cookies, with grandchildren pulling on her apron.

  Annie tugged on the edge of the scrub top she wore and brushed a hand over her hair once. Light-brown waves hung in her eyes, reminding her that she probably should have had a trim before doing this.

  She should have made certain she looked her very best, instead of like a worn-out dishcloth.

  A quick glance down reassured her that, while wrinkled, at least her scrubs were clean. That wasn’t always a given this late in her day.

  No doubt she looked as frazzled as she felt. Twelve hours in the busiest ER in Finley Creek would do that to a woman. Not to mention 110-degree July Texas heat.

  And fear of losing the people who mattered most.

  This man had the power to keep that from happening. Best to seize the opportunity when she could. She could get through this and get on with her life. It was time to do just that.

  Annie pulled in another deep breath and pushed open the door.

  Time to beard the beast in his den.

  2

  Mayor Turner Barratt had three-hundred-eighty-seven to-dos on his list, a growling stomach, and a splitting tension headache. But he stayed at his desk. He wasn’t going anywhere for at least another fifteen minutes. One more person to deal with, and it was done.

  He schooled his expression to be businesslike and welcoming, though he wanted to snarl at the person about to step into his office.

  This meeting was a favor for a family connection. That mattered.

  Turner was a Barratt, and Barratts did what they had to do for family.

  He’d deal with this nurse with a complaint—he wasn’t entirely certain what the meeting was about—and head home. Take some damned medicine for his head, and then sleep for as long as he possibly could. To begin everything again the next day.

  Like every other day before.

  Turner knew he was decent at being the mayor of Finley Creek, but it was a tougher job than being a corporate attorney. He’d never thought he’d look back on his time with the family firm as being an easy vocation. At least, he had known what he was doing as an attorney. Even though he’d had two years a deputy mayor, he had never intended to take the top spot.

  He hadn’t even run for election. He’d inherited the position when the previous mayor had had a massive heart attack at the very desk where Turner sat now. Sometimes, he felt the ghosts of the city surrounding him.

  It didn’t help that his great-something-grandfather was responsible for founding the very town he ran now. Family legacy had him at this desk as much as anything else.

  The man he was named after had built the very street city hall sat on. Turner felt a responsibility to his city.

  He probably always would.

  Crazy, maybe. Sappy, definitely. But he was a Barratt. They were raised to meet their responsibilities.

  Sometimes, he felt like the spirits of his predecessors were watching him, waiting to see if he’d rise to the task of running the city.

  Richard had loved the city a great deal. Turner wasn’t certain he’d ever be able to live up to the legacy. The man had been a mentor in his own life from the time he was a teenager and his parents had suggested he do volunteer work for the city. Turner had found a calling he hadn’t ever known he’d possessed. Most of his work as a corporate attorney had been helping those who couldn’t quite afford it. It had been his way to keep doing good.

  Richard had convinced him he could do just as much good as part-time deputy mayor for the city. Richard had needed him, someone younger and more energetic and passionate about Finley Creek. It had worked; Turner had signed on for the part-time position and tried to the best he could in it.

  Richard’s death had changed everything for Turner.

  The door opened, and he looked up just as thunder cracked overhead. The lights flickered. Wind swirled outside, almost melodramatically. Turner would never forget how the air had charged in that instant. Ridiculous, maybe. But truth.

  Or maybe his pounding headache was messin
g with his brain or something.

  A woman stood silhouetted in the doorway, light from the bay of windows in the hallway behind her just enough to delineate a sweet little figure. A very nice, feminine figure that had him wanting to look a little closer.

  The woman gasped and stopped moving. Turner stood. No sense in her bumping an elbow or a knee because of the storm. He didn’t know how it worked if she were hurt in his office. “Hang on. I’ll give you a hand to the chair—Miss...”