Rebecca Zanetti - Against the Wall

“No, Preston, I can’t sleep.”

The sound of Preston settling back against leather, probably his desk chair, filled the line. “I just wanted to let you know Charleton has dropped their threats of a lawsuit.”

Sophie’s stomach heaved. “How? Why?”

“Apparently our new attorney talked to theirs and they backed off. Fast.”

Sophie groaned. “We have a new attorney?”

“Yeah. You might know him.”

“Son of a bitch.” Sophie took a calming breath. At this rate there wouldn’t be a place in her life Jake hadn’t infiltrated.

Preston laughed. “Well, I figured I’d give you a friendly warning. Your uncle thinks Lodge walks on water.”

“Great. But what about the other four developments? We needed those.”

“Nah, we’ll be all right. I’m flying to New York tomorrow to meet with Luxem Hotel Executives. They’re building seven more hotels next year, all with golf courses. I think we’ll get the job.”

“That’d be great.” Hope filled her with warmth.

“It’d be even better if you were here to help design some of those.”

Sophie stared at muted moonlight playing across the ceiling and searched for the right words. The scraping of pine needles against the window was the only sound through the room.

“Or…” Preston sighed. “I’m sure you could help design them from anywhere in the world.”

“Really?”

“All you need is the Internet and a cell phone.”

“I have those,” Sophie said softly.

“You have me, too. You’re a good friend. If you need me for anything, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.” She kept her condition to herself for now. She wasn’t ready to share.

“Night.” Preston clicked off, and Sophie stretched to place the cell phone on the antique nightstand. It sounded like her old friend was saying good-bye. Sadness at what might have been slid through her before she rolled over to count sheep.

She reached the two hundredth white fluffy animal before an odd smell tickled her nose. She lifted her head to survey the air. Hazy beams of light filtered through the gauzy curtains and lent an ethereal glow to the old-fashioned room. Brass glinted off bedrails and shadows hummed along the edges to settle into the corners.

The smell grew stronger.

Smoke. Oh God, it was smoke.

Sophie jumped out of bed with a gasp and leaned one hand on the night table as the world spun around her. Several deep breaths had the room righting itself so she could hurry to the door and pull it open. Smoke billowed up from the stairway. Flames licked the wooden handrail.

Panic shot through her.

She slammed the door closed and grabbed her sweatshirt off the flowered chair to cover the space under the door. Thank goodness Mrs. Shiller was out of town. She grabbed her cell and dialed 911, giving the address to the operator before yanking on jeans, a sweater, and her boots. Then she ran to the window and pushed it all the way open before turning back to the room. The solid door kept too much smoke from entering, and she figured she had a few minutes.

She grabbed her purchases and tossed them out the window, watching as they bounced two stories down onto the thick grass. Then she threw out her suitcase and charcoals. Smoke wafted out the front of the house to cover the ground in a fine haze.

From a distance, sirens pierced the night.

Sophie finally grabbed her two sketchbooks and swung one leg over the ledge of the window. “We can do this, baby,” she said, eyeing the nearby thick branches of the statuesque bull pine. She’d never climbed a tree but had studied gravity in a physics class. Gravity would win over wishful hopes any day. She reached for the closest branch, her plan formulating as she moved.

Flashing blue and red lights stopped her mid-reach as the sheriff’s truck slammed to a stop and both Jake and Quinn jumped out. More shrill sirens sounded in the night.

“Sophie!” Jake yelled as he barreled across the grass to look up at the window, Quinn on his heels.

“I’m fine, Jake,” Sophie called down, her white knuckles on the window frame starting to ache. “Catch these, would you?” She tossed down her sketchbooks, which Jake snatched out of the air and placed near the base of the tree.

Quinn said something into a big black radio just as a red fire truck screeched to a stop and men in full gear scrambled off.

Jake’s eyes held Sophie’s captive as he murmured something to his brother, who nodded and turned to direct the crew. Then Jake jogged to the tree and jumped to clasp the bottom branch before swinging his legs up over his head toward another branch, crossing his ankles and levering himself into the tree.

Sophie held her breath as Jake easily climbed branch after branch and sent leaves and bark cascading down to the ground.

Suddenly, he stood even with the window. “You ever climb a tree, Sunshine?”

Sophie shook her head, tears surprising her as they slid down her face.

Scratches marred Jake’s hands and bark wove through his hair, yet his grin was genuine. “Okay. You’re going to reach out to that branch”—he pointed to the branch she had been aiming for—“and inch along until you get even with my hands.” He nodded to the spot. “Then, when I touch your wrists, you get ready to move quickly, okay?” His voice stayed soft, soothing.

Sophie nodded and then jumped as her door crackled into fire. Smoke filled the area behind her.

“Now,” Jake coaxed as he shifted his weight on a straining branch.

Quinn took up a position directly below Sophie as she leaned forward and grasped the branch with both hands.

Following Jake’s directions, she inched her hands and arms farther toward the trunk of the tree until her knees sat on the windowsill. She couldn’t go any farther without putting all of her weight on the branch.

“Good job. Now this is a thirty-year-old tree, very sturdy, very safe. But that branch you’re holding won’t hold your entire weight for very long. Do you see the branch about three feet below it? The really thick one?” Jake pointed.

“Yes.” Smoke filled her nose, and she coughed, her eyes watering from the sting.

“Good.” Jake encircled both her wrists with his hands, balancing his weight while standing on two bowing branches. “So sweetheart,” he said, speaking with confidence as more smoke spilled out from the window, “you need to hold this branch and swing your feet onto the lower one. It’ll hold you all day. Ready?”

Sophie turned panicked eyes on Jake and tried to pull her hands back.

Jake shook his head. “The fire’s behind you, Soph. You have to move—now.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn called up from the ground. “I’m right under you. If worse comes to worse, you’ll land on me.”

“Now, Sophie.” Jake tightened his grip as the firemen slammed through the front door armed with axes and an uncoiled hose.

“Jake, the baby.” Sophie clenched the branch with a quick look down. Way down to where Quinn stood patiently.

“Babies don’t like smoke.” Jake’s voice lowered. “Besides, ours would love to flatten Uncle Quinn, I’m sure.”

Sophie tried to breathe shallowly and not take in too much smoke. With a quick prayer, she seized the branch and swung from the safety of the window, her heart all but beating out of her rib cage.

Her feet hit the lower branch and slid off, her boots scraping for purchase.

Panic squashed the breath from her lungs.

Sophie cried out as her legs dangled, and the sound of a branch snapping in two filled the air. It disintegrated in clumps of bark between her hands. Jake’s hands tightened on her wrists as he held her in midair before he swung her so her feet could again find purchase. She caught the lower branch and pressed her legs forward until it balanced in the center of her feet.

She stood for a second, her feet on the branch, her wrists in Jake’s broad hands, before he tugged her toward the trunk and wrapped her arms around the tree.

Sophie rested her head against the scratchy bark and her knees began to tremble.

“Okay, almost done now,” Jake whispered into her ear as he positioned his body behind hers. “See that branch to the right, about a foot down from you?”

Sophie twisted her head to look. “Yes.”

“Hold onto the trunk and just step one foot down to it.” Jake pressed even closer. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

Sophie stepped down, her palms scraping the bark as she fought for balance. Then she sighed in relief as she lowered her other foot. The crackle of fire and shattering glass boomed around them. The process continued until they both stood on bottom branches, about seven feet from the ground. At Jake’s quiet order, Sophie sat, her hands gripping the trunk while he jumped to the grass.

“Grab my arms and jump.” Jake reached up with both hands.

Sophie reached down, clasped broad arms, and let gravity have its way. Her feet met wet grass for a mere second before Jake scooped her in his arms and strode for the paramedic van on the street.

Sophie coughed lightly into his neck, her stomach heaving as Jake lowered her on the tailgate of his truck and a uniformed paramedic placed oxygen over her nose and mouth. Thunder crackled in the distance, and a light rain peppered the ground. Jake pushed Sophie farther into the back of the truck, into dryness.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the scratches on her hands searing. Red and blue lights swirled as the firefighters rolled up their hose and the stench of burned wood filled the air. She began to shake violently, her teeth chattering behind the mask.