Читать книгу Fireman Dad - Betsy St. Amant - Страница 10

Marissa inched her SUV forward in the line of cars, all waiting for Orchid Hill Elementary to open its doors and release a horde of children from its red-bricked depths. She kept one eye out for Owen, grateful the crossing guard was on duty in his bright yellow vest and hat. Owen was usually a pretty cautious child, but sometimes his excitement ran away with him and made him less than careful.

He was like his father that way.

Her cell rang and Marissa dug it out of her purse. “Hello?” She craned her head to see around the car in front of her. Owen must still be waiting with his teacher in the school yard.

“Marissa, hi. This is Jacob Greene.”

She was glad her foot was already on the brake, or she’d have jerked her SUV to a dead halt. “Oh! Hi. Hello.” The words filtered out more like a croak than a greeting, and she mentally chided herself for the lack of professionalism.

He hesitated. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, I’m just picking up Owen from school.” She cleared her throat, hoping to eliminate the frog that seemed to have taken up residence. When she gave Jacob her business card yesterday at the office, she never imagined he’d have called so soon—or at all, for that matter.

“Gotcha.” He laughed. “I’ve picked up Olivia before—I know that can be a rough crowd.”

“No kidding.”

Jacob continued. “Were you able to get that tire fixed?”

“Yes, after work yesterday. There was a nail, so they patched it. I’m good to go, thanks to you.”

“Nah, I didn’t do much. Nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done.” Jacob brushed off the compliment, and Marissa couldn’t help but admire the humility. Kevin had always soaked in—even sought out—praise, always trying to be the hero. But why was she comparing them?

She licked her dry lips. “So, what’s up? Did you have another idea for your niece’s party?” Surely he hadn’t called only to check on her tire.

“Actually, I was calling to ask you a question.” Now it was Jacob’s turn to clear his throat, and Marissa could have sworn she detected a hint of apprehension beneath the cough. “Do you have plans for Friday evening?”

She never had plans on a Friday night, unless you counted the occasional pizza-and-a-movie outing with Owen, or the weekends she spent with her laptop catching up on work. “Not at the moment.” She wanted to ask why, but held her tongue, afraid to hope. He wasn’t asking her out. They’d just met yesterday and he was hiring her as a professional event planner. Come back to real life, Marissa. This isn’t one of Owen’s Disney DVDs.

“I was wondering if you’d like to meet me at the Boardwalk downtown.”

Her cell phone slipped from her fingers into her lap. Marissa scrambled to grab it as the woman in the van behind her honked the horn. “The Boardwalk?” She accelerated into the vacated spot ahead in line, her thoughts racing even faster. The Orchid Hill Boardwalk was a huge shopping district on the river outside of downtown, with a movie theater, restaurants and a giant two-story carousal. It was considered to be a popular dating scene among couples of all ages, though family-oriented as well. She’d taken Owen a few Saturdays ago for an ice cream cone and new shoes. But going with Jacob on a Friday night—that was different. She’d need to find a babysitter, and something to wear, and—

“They have several party goods stores and a garden nursery, so I thought we could get a head start on the birthday party plans and what you might need for the fundraiser.”

Marissa jerked back to the present as reality crashed around her. Her heart thumped an unsteady rhythm and she gripped the steering wheel tighter with her free hand. Not a date. She ignored the rock of disappointment in her stomach. Probably for the best—business, she was used to. Dating, not so much.

Jacob’s voice rose slightly in volume. “Hello? Are you still there?”

She realized with a start she hadn’t answered. “Yes, sorry. Just … driving.” More like driving herself crazy. She briefly closed her eyes to straighten her shaky world back on its axis.

“Is that a yes to my invitation, or a yes that you’re still there?” Jacob’s teasing tone warmed her more than the sun reflecting off the dashboard and onto her bare forearms, and the disappointment faded slightly.

Marissa smiled. “Both.” Why not? Might as well discuss business outside on the Boardwalk instead of at her desk, where she stayed cooped up most days. She hadn’t been out with anyone other than Owen or her mother in a long time.

Too long.

“Great.” Jacob let out an exhale. “If you give me your address, I’d be happy to pick you up.”

“Thanks, but I’ll just meet you there.” Of course Jacob would be a gentleman and want to pick her up, even for a business meeting, but she had one hard-and-fast rule—Owen didn’t meet any men in her life until it had the potential to be serious. If this wasn’t even a date, then there was no need to confuse—or egg on—her son. Owen had been trying to convince Marissa to go on dates for months.

“No problem. I’ll see you at the Boardwalk at six-thirty, then.”

“See you then.” Marissa said goodbye and hung up, relieved Jacob hadn’t pushed the issue of meeting him. She would hate to make things awkward by explaining her reasons, but when it came to Owen, his welfare came first—even if that decision often had her keeping people at arm’s length.

Marissa peered around the car in front of her and finally spotted Owen jogging toward the SUV. She unlocked the back passenger door and he climbed inside, shrugging off his backpack and tossing it on the seat beside him. “Hey, buddy, how was your day?” Could he tell how flushed she felt? She aimed the AC vent toward her neck and turned to her son with a smile, trying to push aside the remaining disappointment lingering in her stomach. If Jacob had asked her on a real date, would she have even said yes? But it didn’t matter. There was no use analyzing what hadn’t happened.

Owen reached for his seat belt with a grin. “School was super cool!”

His hair was rumpled and he smelled like he’d had a little too much fun at recess, but that didn’t stop Marissa from stretching toward him. “Where’s my kiss?”

Owen rolled his eyes, but leaned forward and allowed a quick kiss on his forehead before he buckled in. Marissa fastened her own belt and merged into traffic. “What was the super cool part?” With Owen, that could be anything from finding a frog at recess to getting a decent grade on a math quiz. Either would be equally shocking. At least he made up for his lack of math ability with excellent reading and writing skills.

“Firemen came to our school today!”

Marissa’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror. Her own shock stared back in the reflection. Owen bounced in his seat, his eyes lit with excitement. “They talked about safety and stuff. We should check the batteries in our smoke detectors. Have you checked them?” He bounced again. “Have you?”

Marissa’s hands clenched around the steering wheel and she worked to keep her voice even. “Yes, buddy, I did a few weeks ago.” How could his class have done a fire safety demonstration without a notice? The teacher should have sent something out to the parents—though most parents wouldn’t have the same issues with it that she did. Her knuckles whitened. If her father had arranged for this and didn’t even bother to tell her—

“One of the firemen pulled a quarter from my ear and he let me keep it!” Owen held up a shiny coin and flipped it from one palm to the other. “See? He was so cool! He told me all about firefighting and how I could do it one day, too, if I wanted. Like Grandpa and Daddy.”

Marissa forced a smile in the mirror at Owen as she flipped on the blinker. “That is pretty exciting.” Only halfway listening as he rattled on about fire trucks and all the equipment the firefighters had shown him, Marissa made a sharp left and veered off course toward Oak Street.

She had a stop to make.

“Grandpa!” Owen ran inside Central Station ahead of Marissa into his grandfather’s office.

Fire Chief Lyle Brady twisted in his leather swivel chair, eyes widening with a flicker of surprise. “Well, this is a shock. What brings you two by?”

Marissa leaned against the doorjamb as her dad opened his arms to Owen. Owen hesitated, then edged toward him with a shy grin—which promptly faded upon inspection of his grandfather’s desk. All evidence of shyness erased, Owen tilted his head to one side. “Hey, where’s the candy? You used to have caramel squares on your desk.”

Marissa bit back a snort. There was the son she knew and loved.

“The receptionist has it at her desk now.” Chief patted his ample stomach. “It was too tempting at close range.”

“Can I have a piece?” Owen asked his grandpa, then caught himself and met Marissa’s gaze instead. “I mean, may I have a piece, Mom?”

“Sure, buddy. You go get some candy and let me talk to Grandpa alone for a minute.” She stepped sideways as Owen barreled past to charm the receptionist out of her candy bowl.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Chief crossed his arms over his chest. “But you haven’t been by in months, so I’m not surprised there’s some kind of reason now.”

“The door opens both ways, Dad.” Marissa folded her arms in front of her racing heart, mirroring her father’s image.

“Is this about the fundraiser and the layoffs?” His thick eyebrows furrowed nearly into one. “I told you it’s not good politics for family to be involved in business. This thing could get messy.”

Marissa inhaled, intending to count to ten but only getting to four. “Trust me, you’ve made your stand on that clear. But that’s not why I came.”

“Go on.” He leaned forward.

Marissa bit her lip, fighting the swirl of emotions raging in her stomach. She waited until the boiling cauldron settled. “I can’t believe you arranged for your men to speak to Owen’s class at school and didn’t at least warn me.”

“Warn you? Is that all?” Her father laughed, a booming, husky sound she never heard often enough growing up. He relaxed backward, his bulk causing the chair to squeak. “They were telling the kids to stay away from matches, not escorting them through a live drill.”

“It was more than that, and you know it.” Marissa’s voice rose against her will and she quickly glanced over her shoulder down the hall into the lobby. Owen was attempting to juggle three caramel squares as he told the receptionist about his homework assignment. Just in case, Marissa stepped inside the office and shut the door behind her all but a crack.

Her father’s eyebrows rose, but to his credit he waited for her to finish.

“All Owen talked about the entire drive here was how cool the firemen were and how he wants to drive a fire truck when he grows up.” She bit back the rest of Owen’s sentence before the words could leave her mouth. Just like Grandpa.

She swallowed. Just like Daddy.

He shrugged. “Hey, firemen are pretty cool.”

“Dad.” Marissa’s eyes narrowed. Would he ever take her seriously? Did he not care that she lost her family because of the career he held in such high esteem?

Chief Brady released a heavy sigh and braced his elbows against the desk. “Marissa, you’re overreacting.” Creases marred the skin by his eyes, more so than she remembered noticing the last time she’d seen him. But that had been like he said—months ago. In fact, probably not since Owen’s school play around President’s Day. Even though she’d been back in Orchid Hill for some time now, her father remained absent as usual. Her mom made efforts to stop by at least once a week with treats for Owen, but the chief rarely came along, choosing to spend his time at the office instead.

Not that she minded all that much. Over the years, Marissa and her father had reached some kind of silent agreement to disagree, about—well, everything. Sometimes the absence made it easier.

Even if it did still rub her heart raw.

Her dad continued, “Owen is seven, not seventeen. He’s going to want to be a cowboy, an astronaut and a pro ball player over the next couple of years. Take it with a grain of salt.” He shrugged. “He’s a boy. Boys have big dreams.”

“But we don’t have anyone in our family who flies into space or rides rodeos for a living.” Marissa shot a pointed glance at the framed certificates, awards and degrees decorating the office walls. “Your career is already an influence on him.” A fact that kept her up more nights than she liked to admit, locked in fear of the future because of the past. Maybe Kevin’s death was chalked up to an accident, but accidents happened in the world of firefighting.

A lot.

Her dad flexed his hands, popping his knuckles. “It’s a career I happen to love, Marissa.”

No kidding. The bitterness felt heavy on her tongue and Marissa swallowed, looking away as emotion burned in her throat. She wouldn’t get into the past here, not now. It wouldn’t matter anyway—she’d learned that tear-filled lesson years ago. With her Dad, work always came first.

Apparently it still did.

“I can’t promise to go out of my way to steer Owen in an opposite direction.” Chief Brady shrugged, one broad shoulder straining against the neck of his white uniform. “I’m sorry, but if he wants to be a fireman one day, there are worse careers to have.”

“There are also much safer ones.”

Chief tapped his fingers against his desktop, a tick that meant he’d reached a new level of frustration and was trying to hold it back. She might not have learned the sound of his laughter over the years, but she’d certainly learned his tells of anger. He released a sigh. “Marissa, there’s enough stress around this office right now with the layoffs and negative publicity from the press. This isn’t a big deal, and I beg you not to make it one.”

Marissa lowered her voice until it whispered through her lips. “In case you forgot, Owen doesn’t have a dad and I don’t have a husband because of your beloved career.”

Chief didn’t meet her eyes, but the tapping increased as he stared at his desk calendar. A flicker of guilt made Marissa wonder if she’d gone too far, but she pushed it aside. It was impossible to go too far with Chief. He was never around to notice. He might have climbed the ranks in the department faster than most men his age, but at what cost? His desk, organized and neat like his dresser and nightstand had always been at home, lay void of anything personal or resembling family. No photos. No mementos.

No, some things never changed at all.

Marissa drew a steadying breath. “Listen, I don’t expect you to understand. I just expect you to treat me with the respect I deserve as a mother—and not warning me about your men doing a presentation for Owen’s class feels disrespectful. Not to mention that one of your men crossed the line by turning a safety presentation into a personal recruiting session. I should have a say in who and what influences my child.”

“It’s the teacher’s job to notify parents about school demonstrations, not the department’s.”

“But you’re my father.”

He flinched, a movement so fast Marissa wondered if she’d imagined it. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have come.” She turned to the door and wrenched it open.

Chief coughed. “If it makes you happy, I’ll make sure you’re aware of any future presentations. Okay?”

Her back turned, Marissa nodded with little conviction. It was as much of an olive branch as her dad could offer right now.

And as much of one as she was willing to take.

Marissa plastered on a smile as she started down the hallway, stepping back into the comfortable, if not slightly worn, shoes of her role as Mommy. “Come on, Owen! Time to go home.” They were done here.

Jacob kicked his booted feet up on the coffee table, glad this wasn’t his night to cook at the station. They’d just gotten back from working a wreck involving an eighteen-wheeler, a flipped car and one severely dented guardrail. Two hours in the relentless sun doing hazardous material checks and getting the truck driver transported from mangled cab to gurney proved exhausting. Thankfully the driver of the car was all right and had gone to the E.R. as a precaution. Some nights, that wasn’t the case.

Some nights, Jacob possessed no appetite for dinner at all.

“Jacob, Captain said he heard there’s a chance to catch an overtime shift tomorrow. You interested?” Steve Mitchell, driver for their station, hollered from the kitchen, around the corner from where Jacob sat.

“If they hadn’t let six men go, they wouldn’t have an overtime shift to fill.” Regret coated Jacob’s tongue and he bit back any more negative comments. As much as he struggled to keep business and family separate, the city council was making it tricky. If Jacob wasn’t offended by their actions, then he felt guilty of not being a good brother. But if he clung to the guilt, then he grew afraid his work ethic would crash or his bitterness would be revealed to the chiefs—and then his own job would be at risk if there were more layoffs. But that train of thought carried him full circle back to a new guilt of caring for his own welfare when his brother’s was tossed aside.

He was getting sick of no-win situations.

“Couldn’t hear you.” Steve popped his head around the corner, wiping his hands on a dish towel. Whatever he was cooking already smelled burnt, and Jacob’s stomach protested with disappointment. If he had the energy, he would’ve taken over with the wooden spoon, but not tonight.

Jacob tugged the leg of his pants further down over his boot. “Just think it’s strange they’re offering overtime right now.”

“Well, they do have a sudden lack of manpower.” Steve disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Exactly.” It wasn’t the first time Jacob had questioned the political aspects of the department—though it was likely for the best not to know all the details. Maybe once his brother found a new job, Jacob could relax and work would once again be like it used to be. He raised his voice so Steve could hear above the hum of the oven range vent. “Count me out. If you want to sign up for the shift, go ahead.”

Steve’s head poked around the frame a second time, reminding Jacob of a prairie dog. “That’s weird. You used to always jump at overtime offers. What’s changed?”

“Nothing.” Nothing other than his meeting with Marissa tomorrow, that is. But that was none of Steve’s business, and if Steve knew, he’d definitely take it out of context. Jacob had his fill of department gossip a few months ago when a woman he took out one time decided to pop in the station the next day with two dozen brownies. Needless to say, she hadn’t taken his gentle rejection very well. He shuddered at the memory.

“There’s got to be something,” Steve persisted. “Another hot date?” The food on the stove splattered and hissed behind him, and he darted back into the kitchen. “Make sure this one brings brownies again.” He laughed.

“No date. Business.” But even though Jacob said they’d discuss the fundraiser and the birthday party for Olivia, more and more it seemed the only thing he really wanted to discuss was Marissa Hawthorne. Who was she? What did she like? What did she do in her free time? Something about her smile seemed infectious, and business or not, he was looking forward to tomorrow night probably more than he should.

Steve let out an exaggerated sigh from the kitchen. “Surprise, surprise. You never date—with the exception of the brownie girl.”

“Her name was Lisa.”

“You should have taken her out again. She could cook.”

It figured Steve found that one particular quality alone worthy of a long-time commitment. Jacob snorted and grabbed a motorcycle magazine from the coffee table. “Why don’t you worry more about our food in there and less about my love life, huh?” He flipped through the glossy pages. More like lack of love life. It was true he hadn’t dated a lot lately. To his regret, the last few women he’d taken out were like Lisa—overeager, clingy and more interested in the physical than getting to know one another. He might be a red-blooded male, but his faith came first. Besides, they hadn’t connected. It was simple—either the spark was there, or it wasn’t.

With Marissa, there were so many sparks his palm felt like the Fourth of July when they shook hands.

He turned another page. Not that it mattered. They were going to be planning a fundraiser together, so her beauty didn’t count in that respect. So what if she was sweet? He smiled. And funny. And had eyes that seemed to reach clear—

The smoke detector in the kitchen blared at the same time as the overhead distress alarms. Time to go. Jacob jumped up and tossed the magazine on the table, glad he’d left his boots on. Steve moaned from the kitchen as a lid slammed against a pot. “Figures! Right when dinner is almost ready.”

Captain Walker brushed past them toward the bay, snorting as he headed for the trucks. “We’ve had enough soot and ash today already, Steve. It’ll keep.”

“It wasn’t looking that bad.” Steve grabbed the broom they kept in the pantry and jabbed the smoke detector on the ceiling. The piercing shriek stopped, but the fire alarms continued to sound.

“Engine four, trauma four. Fire reported at 6500 Dudley Square. Flames and smoke visible.” The dispatcher’s tone echoed through the small living area. “First party report. All units advise.”

“House fire.” Adrenaline rushed through Jacob’s chest, overflowing his senses with the familiar combination of anxiety and excitement. He followed Captain into the bay, the scent of exhaust fumes and disinfectant assaulting his nostrils. He hoped this house wouldn’t be a goner like the last one his shift had worked a few weeks back. As often as he saw the destruction left behind by a fire’s greedy pulse, the sight of ruined memories and heirlooms never failed to burn something deep inside him. Jacob grabbed his bunker gear from the hooks on the wall and shrugged his arms into the sleeves before swinging up inside the backseat of the cab.

Steve took the driver’s seat and cranked the engine, his earlier joking set aside as professionalism took over. Captain buckled his seat belt as Steve flipped on the sirens. “Here we go.”

Jacob tugged on his Nomex hood, then grabbed the overhead bar as they squealed onto the street, lights flashing. He peered out the window as they accelerated around the curve. Man, he loved his job. Despite the politics, firefighting ran in his blood. Around him, the world continued to revolve as usual—drivers heading to various destinations, pedestrians strolling the sidewalks and enjoying the warm spring air and the aroma of flowers blooming on the landscaped street corners. But a few blocks away, someone’s world had gotten yanked off center.

And with God’s help, he would help make it right again.