Welsh Wildfire
By Clare Revell
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Welsh Wildfire - Clare Revell
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Vegas Vacation
Vegas & Royalty? Sign me up. I've never been to Las Vegas, but Clare Revell put me smack-dab in the middle of the strip using her trademark combination of romance, wry humor, hope, and suspense. Don't miss it! ~ Marianne Evans
Thursday’s Child
This is the best one yet. What a great story! Ms. Revell keeps you on the edge of your seat either emotionally or in suspense throughout the story. Every emotional tug between Jared and Niamh will pull at your heartstrings. Your heart will break for them, hoping she will recover fully and he can reclaim her heart.
The suspense, the mystery, the danger – it’s all as hot as the worst fire he battles. You won’t want to put this one down! Oh, and keep those tissues handy. ~Donna B Snow
Pronunciations
Betws-y-Coed – Betsy Coy-d
Angharad – Ann-ha-rod
Olwyn – Oll-win
Dai – Die
Geinor – Gay-nor
Bryony – Bri-oh-knee
Broderic – Br-od-er-ick
Ceryn – Ker-ryn
Why do you complain, Jacob? Why do you say, Israel, My way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God
? Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. Isaiah 40:27-28
1
Quaint wasn’t the word to describe the small Welsh villages Josh passed as he drove in the heat of the day. Tiny was a better word, and if this were the main road that—combined with the lack of air conditioning in his rental car—was almost enough to make him turn around, head back to the airport, and catch the first plane he could find to Oklahoma City.
Almost—but not quite. Because anywhere in the United States was the last place he wanted to be right now. He didn’t need comfort. He didn’t need caring family. He needed to be alone. And Wales, with its odd and unpronounceable towns, seemed a good place to find solitude.
Josh drove around yet another bend in the road, desperately hoping he wasn’t going to meet an oncoming tractor. The last encounter had been scary enough, and he’d been fortunate to find a passing zone just in time to avoid embedding his rental car in the hedgerow.
He glared at the GPS app on his phone. Did the thing even know where Betws-y-Coed was? All the sign posts were in Welsh, with what he sincerely hoped was the correct English translation underneath, and according to the map on the front seat, the town was somewhere along the A5, on the edge of Snowdonia National Park. He intended to climb Mount Snowdon whilst he was here. It was the highest mountain in Wales and the third highest in the UK. His self-imposed exile had to have some perks.
The countryside was a far cry from the huge city he left twenty hours ago. He’d somehow managed to find a job in Wales before he left the US—assuming he ever made the meeting on time. He’d done a telephone interview, but his prospective boss, the governor of the local firehouse, wanted to meet him face to face before he signed the contract.
He would be a retained or volunteer firefighter, not a full-time one, but that didn’t matter. The job was the same whether he was stuck in a firehouse for the duration of his shift, or on the other end of a pager—and he’d only ever been a retained firefighter, doing it along with his day job. That had been enough of a battle with his employers and his father, but one that he’d won. His father had since said how proud he was of him serving in that capacity.
And this was just a temporary position to cover a leave of absence—only six weeks. But that suited him fine. While he needed solitude, he also wanted to keep busy and this job would help him do that. Too much time on his hands would lead to him thinking, and that wouldn’t be a good thing. Maybe after six weeks here, he’d know what direction he wanted to take the rest of his life.
Finally, Josh drove past the town boundary and followed the signs that read canol y drefor or town center. He pulled into the first parking lot he found and assumed by the lack of meters that he didn’t have to pay. Just as well as he didn’t have change. The ATM at the airport had only given him bills. And no meter reader or parking attendant was ever going to believe the line he had to go and buy a paper to get change.
Josh eased his long frame from the car and rolled his shoulders in the sunshine. Birds sang in the trees, a cool breeze ruffled his hair, and he closed his eyes, taking in the fresh air. No city smog here. Just clean, fresh mountain air.
He pulled the backpack containing all his paperwork from the car and locked it. Sliding the keys into his pocket, he consulted the map in his other hand. The firehouse should be just off the High Street, wherever that was. He began walking. Maybe there’d be a coffee shop somewhere. Thirsty didn’t even begin to describe how he felt. Josh turned a corner. Ahead a building was covered in scaffolding. The signs read Morgan Construction. It could almost be a total rebuild they were undertaking.
Josh allowed himself a small smile. He hadn’t done construction in years. He paused, admiring the stone work along the top of the bricks. He nodded to a guy in a hard hat. Nice work.
The man studied him. Thank you. You know about this stuff?
Aye.
As usual, Josh managed to speak in a combination of Scottish and American, a throwback to his mixed heritage—although his Scots accent only came out when he was tired, stressed, or having trouble keeping his emotions in check. I trained in stone masonry and worked with stone for several years. I did some of the restoration work on a cathedral some years back.
He indicated the rock the man was sculpting. Those cornices look pretty complicated.
They can be, but that’s the beauty of the work.
The man held out a hand. Dai Morgan.
That made him the boss. Josh shook his hand. Josh Wilson.
You must be pretty good with the stone if you’ve worked on a cathedral.
It’s been a while, but there’s nothing like it.
Josh sucked in a deep breath. I’m about to hand in my papers at the fire department—uh, fire station.
He corrected himself quickly.
Dai tipped his hat back. A retained firefighter is a fair jump from carving stone.
Josh nodded, not going to bring up what he’d done between the two jobs. Aye, it is.
He paused. Masonry was hard, mind-numbing work. Why couldn’t he do two jobs? He needed a distraction. And the money wouldn’t hurt either, even if he didn’t need it. I don’t suppose you have a vacancy here?
Are you American?
Dual nationality, so I don’t need work permits.
That was another blessing to having a UK passport as well as an American one. Plus, it meant not needing a visa to enter the country.
Come up and take a look.
Dai offered him a hard hat. If you’re as good as you say, I could always use another pair of hands here for the duration.
Josh set his pack down and followed the tall, dark-haired man up the scaffolding. He listened as Dai explained what they were doing. It sounded great, restoring what carvings they could and replacing the rest. He ran his hand over the granite. He could almost hear it speaking to him.
He’d found God in the stone many years ago.
And now he was running from Him.
This one looks beyond repair,
Dai said. It’s on the list to be replaced.
Josh glanced up. He doesn’t need that. I think he needs a wee bit taken off here. Then he’ll be right. See where the curvature doesn’t match the other side? It won’t show from the ground, but I believe in making the stone sing, and this one can’t sing if he’s not perfect.
Dai handed him the tools he would need from the belt around his waist. Show me.
Josh hefted the chisel and mallet for a moment, taking in their weight and feel, then let his skill take over. He transferred what he could see in his mind to the stone. Before long he had adjusted the stone until it was perfect.
Dai smiled. That’s amazing. The job is yours if you want it. The contract is only six weeks I’m afraid, as the job finishes by then. Come down to the office and we’ll do the paperwork.
Josh stood. Six weeks would tie in nicely with the firehouse job. Thanks. I appreciate it.
He followed Dai to the ladder. Above him something fell, clashing against the metal pipes of the scaffolding.
"Byddwch yn ofalus. Look out!" The warning shout came almost immediately.
Josh caught sight of something sharp tumbling towards Dai, and he instinctively reached out to deflect it.
Pain shot through him as a falling chisel sliced across his hand. He cried out, clutching his palm tightly.
"Sorry, ffrind. I dropped it. Booted feet landed heavily beside him.
Are you hurt?"
Josh bit his tongue. Swearing wasn’t an option.
"Ivor, rydychyn idiot. Gallech fod wedi lladd rhywun, Dai yelled. He took Josh’s hand, carefully looking at it.
This needs stitching."
Josh groaned, pain spearing him. So much for my new jobs, but I guess it could have been worse. Had it been a chunk of stone we could have been killed.
That’s more or less what I just told him,
Dai said.
I’m really sorry,
Ivor apologized again. "It was