The Irresistible Mr Cooper

by Roslyn Carrington

  But watching her work this week, and seeing her determination to win back his respect, had moved him. They weren’t often alone, but each time, he longed to pull her to him—never mind she was usually decorated with grease spots and cobwebs—and kiss her. He’d asked for space to think things through, and she’d given it to him. But time for reflection was over. He wanted her, and he was going to let her know it.

  At his place, Jenessa and Ruby scampered upstairs to shower and change into something presentable while he set the table and warmed Ruby’s culinary masterpieces. Their voices preceded them as they came tripping downstairs and into the dining room. As usual, they were talking about fashion.

  He brought the hot bowl of goulash and set it on the table as Ruby put out the rice and the tomato salad. “Wine?” he offered as Jenessa took a seat.

  “Merci beaucoup,” Ruby responded in a terrible approximation of a French accent. “I theenk a leetle drop would be magnifique.”

  “I didn’t mean you,” he laughed.

  She snapped her fingers. “Rats!” She set down a large dried wreath in the center of the table and began lighting the four tall candles in the middle.

  “Isn’t that your Advent wreath?” he asked as he poured glasses of Pinot for himself and Jenessa.

  “Oh, duh, Uncle! I know it’s not Advent.” She shot a sly look at Mitch and Jenessa. “I just wanted to make it all nice and romantic and stuff.”

  In the glow of candles, Jenessa flushed. Mitch understood; tonight’s dinner wasn’t just an opportunity for Ruby to spend time with Jenessa. The young girl had figured out something had gone wrong between them, and was trying to make things right. It was both touching and sad. Again, Mitch felt overwhelmed by his inadequacy in providing Ruby with the family environment she yearned for. Involuntarily, his eyes went to the sepia drawing of Wendy on the wall across from the table. Ruby needed a mother figure, someone she could trust, emulate and look up to. That was going to be a tall order.

  When Ruby was done fussing with the candles, they held hands, said Grace and served themselves. “The rice isn’t mushy at all,” Jenessa was saying when a loud pounding at the front door startled them. The hammering came again.

  Mitch threw down his napkin. “You guys go ahead and eat. I’ll go see who’s there.” His voice was calm and reassuring but his gut was going haywire. He felt their eyes on his back as he walked toward the door. They, too, sensed something amiss.

  He’d barely drawn the latch back when a mass of spiked energy hit him full in the chest, shoved him aside and stormed in.

  “Ruby! Ruby!” Coral’s voice was like sandpaper on glass. He got a whiff of her as she passed him: unwashed clothes, desperation, and cheap alcohol. His sister began running in circles, screaming her daughter’s name.

  Mitch recovered enough to put his arms around her in an attempt to get her to be still. “Easy, Coral,” he soothed. “Easy, now.”

  She wrenched away. “Don’t touch me! You’re the Devil! You want to keep my baby from me. I need to see my baby.”

  “I’m not trying to keep your—” he began, but then Ruby appeared, with Jenessa standing behind. Her hands were on Ruby’s shoulders.

  “I’m here, Mom.”

  Coral threw her arms up and shuddered like someone beset by the Spirit, and then tore over to where her daughter was standing. The look on Ruby’s face would haunt him for a long time. It was a heart-shredding mixture of hurt, fear, disgust, love, and longing. She let herself be enfolded in her mother’s arms, but her body was stiff and unyielding.

  “Ruby, Ruby, Ruby,” Coral crooned and patted the corkscrew twists that framed the small face.

  Mitch and Jenessa exchanged glances. By rights, he should call the police. Coral was AWOL, and with each passing day the likelihood of her getting off without serious consequences grew slimmer and slimmer. If spotted, she was likely to be arrested. But she was his sister. He’d turned her in once before, and although he knew he’d done the right thing, he’d rather slice open a vein than do it again.

  But then, there was Ruby. Whenever Coral was around, Ruby got hurt. His protective instinct yelled at him to get his sister out of here fast, before something went terribly wrong. “Where’ve you been?” he asked.

  Coral was squeezing Ruby so hard against her thin, wasted bosom that the girl could barely breathe. “Never you mind. All I know is: I’ve come to get my daughter.”

  Not on his life, Mitch thought, but he said calmly, “We were about to have dinner. Why don’t you sit with us?”

  “I cooked, Mom.”

  “Did you, baby?” Coral said admiringly.

  Ruby disentangled herself from her mother’s anaconda hold and took her hand. “Come, have something to eat.”

  She needed it. Coral was thinner than before. Her hair was uneven, sparse and untended. Mitch guessed it had begun falling out. With Ruby leading, and Mitch herding them from behind, they returned to the dining room, but nobody sat. Jenessa kept a wary eye on Coral, which his sister matched with a hostile one. Mitch walked over to the table, set another place, and began serving Coral.

  “I’m taking her with me,” Coral said.

  “Sit,” he responded. “Eat.”

  “You hear me, Mitch?”

  He lifted his troubled eyes to her wide-pupiled ones. “I heard you. But I think we should talk it over after you get something inside you.”

  Coral struck like a snake, snatching the plate from his hands and dashing it and its contents to the floor. “Nothing to talk over.” Then, to Ruby, “Go pack your clothes.”

  Ruby gave Mitch a terrified, pleading look.

  It took everything he had to hang on to his equilibrium. He tried to help Coral see sense. “Where’re you taking her? Do you have somewhere to stay?”

  “I got friends,” she evaded.

  “Not good enough. Ruby needs stability.”

  “Ruby needs her mother!” Coral pounded her chest.

  “Not when her mother’s too sick to help herself. Coral, please, listen to reason. Go back to the clinic. See this through. Then, when you’re better—”

  The next thing he heard was Ruby’s surprised yelp as Coral grabbed her by the collar and began dragging her back in the direction they’d come. The panicked child made a wild grab at the table, desperate for an anchor. Her hands grasped the tablecloth, sending the untouched plates of food crashing to the ground.

  Mitch reacted immediately, grabbing Ruby’s arm. But with Coral yanking her in one direction and him pulling in the other, Ruby cried out in pain. “Uncle, no! Ow, ow, ow!” He let her go.

  Jenessa tried to cut Coral off but earned a slap across the face for her trouble. Changing tactics, Mitch grabbed hold of Coral, wrapping his arms around her waist. But with wild strength she shoved him back, stomping on his instep and ducking past him toward the door. If he decided to use his muscle, it would be no contest; he was by far taller, fitter, and stronger than his sister, but he didn’t want to hurt her or Ruby.

  Instead, he bounded through the living room, over the couch and into the hallway, driving home the lock on the front door and standing before it, arms and legs spread. If Coral was taking Ruby anywhere, she’d have to go through him.

  “Move,” Coral demanded.

  “Stop this.”

  “Get out of my—”

  “Mom,” Ruby pleaded. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Coral, please, let her go.” Jenessa begged.

  “I got nothing to say to you,” Coral snapped. “You don’t belong here.”

  Yes, she does, Mitch was about to say when a whole new dimension of horror opened up. Behind them, a wicked orange light danced, and a wave of heat rolled out at them. The dining room was on fire.

  He heard the shocked shouts of the women as he ran toward the flames. He knew immediately what had happened. During the skirmish, Ruby’s Advent candles had tipped over. Now the tablecloth, table, and curtains were ablaze. A circle of melted wax burned like an angry eye in th
e center of the table. Gobs of burning wax dripped onto the area rug beneath.

  He ran to the kitchen and grabbed the fire extinguisher, returning to aim foam at the heart of the blaze. But too soon, it was empty, and when the fire had gorged itself on the curtains it began feeding on the rest of the room. He raced back to where the women were standing. Ruby was shrieking in panic, clutching Jenessa. Coral had both hands over her mouth and was hopping in agitation, eyes bugging. Dense clouds of black smoke rolled toward them.

  He unlocked the front door and shooed them out. “Go!”

  Ruby stared at him, not reacting. “But Uncle Mitch, our stuff!”

  “No time.” His eyes had begun to tear, and the acrid stink was already burning in his chest. “Ruby, honey, please.” But shock and fear made her grow roots. He lifted her effortlessly and ran outside, turning only to make sure Jenessa and Coral were following. He set her down on the sidewalk and then raced up the steps to the Banners’ side of the duplex and hammered on the door. The family came pouring out.

  Mitch took his phone out to call for help, but Jenessa had the jump on him. She breathlessly yelled directions into her phone. He heard the shouts of his neighbors and of people rushing out of houses all around, gathering on the sidewalk, staring open-mouthed at the spectacle. Ruby sobbed in Jenessa’s arms. The Banner boys were arguing loudly with their father about going back inside to rescue personal items. Coral was spinning like a blind dervish.

  As the banshee wail of the fire engines bore down upon them, he was seized by one awful desire. This is crazy, he said to himself as he ran back into his blazing home. This is suicide. The only thing that made him hesitate was the sound of Jenessa’s horrified pleas for him to stop. But on he pressed.

  In spite of the flames, the blackness inside was thicker than night. There was nothing for him to breathe. He squinted against the smoke, letting instinct and memory guide him.

  The dining room was a furnace. He felt the hairs on the back of his arms singe. Hands out before him, he found what he was looking for. It was so hot he almost dropped it. But it was more precious to him than the skin on his palms, and holding it against his chest, he sprinted back out through the open doorway into the land of the living.

  He collapsed on the sidewalk, glad for the frosty concrete beneath him. He coughed, clearing his lungs and fighting for a clean breath. Jenessa reached his side and dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around him. “Mitchell, you could have been killed in there. Why’d you—”

  He looked down at the small sepia drawing on the sidewalk. The frame was smoke-blackened, and the glass had shattered when he dropped it, but that could be fixed. The gentle eyes of the woman he’d loved for so long smiled up at him. His relief was like a salve to his burned hands. He’d saved her from the flames.

  He lifted his eyes to Jenessa’s. She smiled, touched his cheek and then kissed him lightly on the forehead. She understood.

  15.

  In the stillness of the night, the sound of fire engines echoed in Jenessa’s ears. She wondered if she’d ever be able to forget the way the smoke made her eyes burn, or the furious hiss of the fire as the water squelched its rampage.

  When she walked back into her kitchen, Mitchell was sitting slumped at the table, rolling a glass of Scotch between bandaged hands.

  “She asleep?” he asked without looking up.

  She pulled out a chair and sat beside him. “Mm-hm.” It was well after midnight, and Ruby had fallen into an exhausted, tear-streaked slumber in Jenessa’s guest room upstairs. She’d been too tired even to take a shower, and so distraught and consumed with guilt at being the one who’d lit the candles, the paramedics on the scene had eventually given her something to help her rest.

  “Poor baby.”

  She touched him on the arm. “Kids are resilient,” she began saying.

  “She lost her home,” he reminded her.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She poured herself a drink and took a sip. She was glad for the burn.

  “Not to mention her mother being gone again,” he added wearily.

  In the melee, Coral had run off. Now she was out there somewhere, hurting for a fix, but still pining for her daughter. There was no way to guess what would ensue when those two fervent desires met.

  “What’ll happen to Coral?” Jenessa asked.

  He looked so crestfallen she wanted to cradle him to her breast. “No idea. She could be anywhere. She’s probably been crashing with a friend, but it’s not likely she’ll stay in one place long. She doesn’t like being predictable.” He finished his drink, poured himself another, but didn’t bring it to his lips. “I wish she would . . . if only Coral could find the strength to kick this thing. I should be doing more, but I don’t know what.”

  “You’ve done everything you can,” she said softly.

  He wasn’t consoled. “It wasn’t enough, or she’d be where she belongs.”

  She finished her drink and took his hands. The bandages were coarse under hers. “There are limits to what another person can do. She has to make the decision to change on her own.”

  “She’s my kid sister. I should be there for her.”

  “You are.” She brought his hands to her face and kissed them. Then she looked down at the bandages and remembered how he’d been burned, rescuing one precious memento of his dead wife. Her heart and soul felt like crying. “Do your hands hurt?”

  He pondered as if it was a trick question. “I don’t know.”

  She began to rise. “I’ll get you some painkillers. . . . ”

  He reached up and pulled her back. “Don’t go.”

  She sat again, but allowed him to immerse himself in his silence for a while, going over the events of the evening, as she was sure he was doing. The emergency services were quick enough on the scene to save most of the building. The fire had been contained to the kitchen, dining and living rooms, with enough damage to some of the rafters to render the ceiling unreliable, although it hadn’t penetrated to the upper floor in any significant way. Next door, the Banners had escaped with a scorched partitioning wall and substantial water damage.

  “Gonna cost a bundle to repair,” she commented.

  “What’s the matter,” he rasped, “don’t think I can afford to fix my own house?”

  She felt like biting her tongue off. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  He rubbed his jaw and sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t. Forgive me. I’m stressed.” Then he added, “Insurance’ll take care of most of it.”

  “Good.”

  “Except for the stuff that . . . ” She watched in pained fascination as emotion distorted his face. “Except for the stuff that can’t be replaced.”

  Memories, Jenessa thought. Souvenirs of trips taken, mementos of a happy marriage. Photos and knick-knacks. It was funny how he clung to his past, when all she’d ever wanted to do was forget hers.

  “Collages,” he said, so softly she could barely hear him. “The leaf collages Wendy made the year before she died. Her ode to immortality.” He gave a laugh that wasn’t a laugh. “I felt if I kept them around, a part of her would always be alive, you know?”

  She was so overwhelmed by in his grief she could do nothing but nod.

  He let his head fall forward onto the table into the circle of his arms, and when his shoulders began shaking, she realized he was crying. “The wall was on fire. I couldn’t save them.”

  There was nothing to say, absolutely nothing, that would bring him solace. But there was much she could do. She eased him up off the table and slipped onto his lap, wrapping her arms around him and pressing his face into her shoulder. She felt his tears on her neck. The last time she’d seen a man cry, her father had come home from the auto plant, back in Detroit, wearily telling her mother it was all over. The plant was shutting down. They’d been behind enough in their mortgage that another missed payment would see them homeless.

  One hand slipped around her waist; the other roamed up and down her sp
ine like he was fingering the frets of a guitar. He lifted his damp face to hers. She kissed him gently, cradling his jaw.

  Kissing him again after weeks of tense avoidance was sublime. She hadn’t forgotten what a good kisser he was, but this time there was a different quality to his kiss. Before it had been about sexual curiosity, seduction and experimentation. Now he was hurting and she had what it took to make him better.

  He covered her face with kisses, coming back time and again to her mouth. He brought strands of her hair to his lips and buried his face in her neck. “It feels like forever since I kissed you,” he breathed.

  “Three weeks,” she marveled. “But it seems like so much more.”

  “Idiot.”

  “Hey,” she asked with a smile. “Who you talking to?”

  “The fool who let you walk around for three weeks with that mouth of yours un-kissed.”

  “Wonder if he knows what he’s been missing.”

  “You gonna show him?”

  She needed no more prompting. She slipped off his lap and grasped his hand. Up the stairs, quiet as mice, glancing once down the hallway where Ruby lay, dead to the world. Jenessa wasn’t much of a screamer, but the last time, Mitchell had had her rattling the windowpanes. “I’ll try to keep a lid on it,” she joked.

  “If you can’t,” he suggested, “bite a pillow.”

  She was still thinking about a few other things she wanted to bite when he locked the bedroom door and faced her. Instead of stripping off either their clothes, he pulled her to his chest and hugged her long and hard. His arms were a warm place she hated to ever leave.

  “Listen,” he whispered against her hair. “I have to tell you something.”

  “I’m listening,” she murmured. And feeling, she thought, and smelling, and aching, and wanting.

  “This talk about games . . . it’s over.”

  Her feet left the ground as he lifted her up and braced her against the wall. He held her like he’d won some great prize, and wanted everyone to know it. She worried about his blistered palms, but was afraid to say something in case he put her down.