Love on the Outskirts of Town

by Zoe York

  “Me, too,” he whispered. “I want to build this for you so you see it every day and know that no matter how bruised and jaded and broken you might feel, because life is rough, that I want to build castles in the sky for you. That I see how hard you work, and I appreciate you, and I want to honour you.”

  “Matt…” She needed a fucking tissue. She swiped at her eyes with frozen fingertips. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. You make me so happy, you big dork. A white picket fence?”

  “Yeah.” He carefully touched her chin, lifting her face. “Happy is my middle name. Last and final version. And I was wondering if maybe you and Emily wanted to adopt it as a common middle name. Natasha Happy Kingsley, wife of Matt Happy Foster, who is the proudest step-dad in the world to Emily Happy Kingsley.” He stepped back, pulled a ring box out of his pocket, and lowered to one knee. “I didn’t get this at the lumber store.”

  “What are you doing?” She whispered. One of the more ridiculous questions she’d ever asked, but she was awestruck. “You already got me a ring.”

  “This one is more than a promise. This one is a vow.” He opened the box and pulled out a diamond solitaire. “Natasha, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said through fresh tears. “I’ll marry you tomorrow if you want.”

  “You have guests arriving in a few days, maybe we should wait.” He slid the ring onto her left hand, then stood up. “I was thinking maybe Christmas Eve. Here. With our family. I can make stew and you and Emily can decorate the cupcakes.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The waiting room looked like Natasha’s hipster rental units. Matt even took a picture of the bookcase decorations in case his fiancée wanted to steal some ideas from his new therapist.

  As the quiet clock on the wall ticked to the top of the hour, the inner door opened and a man stepped out. A big guy with a gentle smile. “Matt?”

  “Hi. Yeah, that’s me.”

  “I’m Vic. Come on in.”

  There was awkward paperwork first, then Vic leaned forward. “You said in your email that you’re recovering from some trauma.”

  Matt swallowed. “That’s right. Last year I, uh, had a pretty shitty day at work.”

  “You’re a paramedic?”

  He nodded. “I lost a patient at work, and it stuck with me.”

  “Then that’s where we should begin. Tell me about that day.”

  Matt repeated the story that now slid out of him in a rush of words, not quite easy, but no longer traumatizing to recount. “It was just bad timing, really, that Fred died at the same time my brothers were trying to get ahold of me. And I conflated the two events in my head.”

  “And what happened next?”

  An exhausted, worried drive to the airport. No news until the next day, when Dean finally arrived, and then waiting. Endless waiting. Weeks went by before Sean came home, broken and angry.

  The therapist looked at him as he drifted to another pause. “He’s okay now,” Matt finally added. “Happily married, in fact.”

  “But what happened with Fred?”

  “He died,” Matt said, confused.

  “Was there a funeral?”

  A dull roar started somewhere in the back of Matt’s brain.

  “Matt?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I don’t know,” he said thickly. “Fuck, how did I not know?”

  “You were understandably occupied by a family tragedy.”

  His ears were ringing and he shook his head. Fuck. More than a year had passed. A year of running and working and nightmares—

  He froze.

  His hands were tight balls of fury in front of him and his vision blurred.

  There was a grave in his dreams.

  “I thought it was Sean.” His voice cracked. “I had nightmares. Have. Still, sometimes, but not that often.”

  He’d been living with Natasha and Emily full-time for weeks now. Spring was trying to come to the peninsula, although winter was doing a good job of fighting to maintain its hold, too. He’d only woken up in a sweat twice, and both times, Tasha eased him back under the covers and held him as he talked about his brother.

  But he didn’t talk about Fred. Not enough.

  “I don’t even know if Fred has a grave.” He looked up at Vic. “Maybe he was cremated.”

  “Who would know?”

  “The Legion, I’d imagine.”

  Vic nodded. “How does that sound as a bit of homework for this week? Find out what sort of memorial there was. Next week we can talk about how it might feel to go to the grave, or see his ashes.”

  “It would be good.” Matt didn’t need to talk that through. He knew.

  “All right.”

  Matt nodded. “Yeah. Shit.”

  Vic smiled. “Welcome to therapy, Matt. I think you’re going to do some good work in here.”

  He left the office through another door that dumped right into the parking lot. Before he left Owen Sound, he stopped at the big grocery store and picked up everything he’d need to make his girls dinner.

  The next day it rained. Heavy, relentless. A fitting backdrop as he drove north to Pine Harbour. The Legion opened after lunch, so he went to Mac’s first and texted Tom and Sean to see if they wanted to join him.

  They both showed up ten minutes later, Tom in his park ranger uniform, Sean in sweatpants and a t-shirt with his new elite athletics coaching logo printed on it.

  “What’s with the unexpected visit?” Sean asked after grabbing a menu.

  Matt told them about his first counselling appointment, and his mission.

  “We’ll come with you to the Legion,” Tom said.

  Matt pointed to his uniform. “Don’t you have to go back to work?”

  “I’ve got a phone. They can call me if they need me. This is important.” Right on cue, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen, typed back a response, and put it away. “See? All good.”

  Matt’s leg shook restlessly as they ate. He pushed his foot into the ground, telling himself this would be fine.

  Maybe he should have brought Natasha along for the drive, but she had a shift at the lumber store, and he didn’t want to wait until they both had a day off together. Now that he’d realized what he needed for closure, he was grabbing it with both hands as soon as possible.

  They walked over to the Legion once it opened. Matt introduced himself to the bartender and explained why he was there.

  “Fred Carleton?” The guy nodded. “Yeah, I remember him. I’m not sure if there was a funeral.”

  Shit. That hit Matt in the chest like a sucker punch.

  “There are a couple of guys who usually come around in the early afternoon to play cards. Sit down, have a drink, and I’ll flag them for you.”

  Tom and Sean asked for pop, but Matt went for a beer. “I may end up on your couch at the end of the day,” he warned Sean.

  “Jenna’s sleeping off a long birth this afternoon, so you’ll need to be quiet, but sure.”

  “Dude, of course I get that.”

  “I know but…” Sean grinned. “She needs all the rest she can get. She’s pregnant.”

  “Fucking eh, man!” Matt clapped his hand on Sean’s shoulder and squeezed. “Good job.”

  Sean laughed. “Thanks.”

  The outside door swung open, and two older men stepped inside.

  One of them was his father.

  “Uh…” Sean sat up straighter.

  So did Matt. Then he stood up. “Dad,” he said. “I didn’t know you came in here.”

  The Colonel shrugged. “I like to play cards, so I pop in from time to time. What are you boys doing here?”

  Boys. Sean cleared his throat at that, and Matt expected their father to grump about the reaction, but instead he nodded his head.

  “Sorry, Sean.”

  Would wonders never cease.

  Matt was going for it. “Dad, did you know Fred Carleton?”

  “Yep, sure did. Not as well as
the others, but he was a regular here before he got sick.”

  “I, uh…” Matt’s throat tightened up. “I was wondering if there was a funeral or anything. I missed it, and it’s been weighing on my mind.”

  The Colonel frowned, then waved over the other man who’d gone to the bar. “I think that was around the time Sean was hurt, wasn’t it?”

  Matt rubbed his chest. “Yep. Same time.”

  “Jim, what did you guys do for Fred Carleton’s memorial?” His father gestured to Matt. “My son here was wondering.” He looked back at Matt. “You knew him through work, did you?”

  He nodded. He wasn’t going to share the details with Fred’s friends.

  Jim, an older man, slight and slim, pulled up a chair and sat down, so then their father did the same.

  “We had a lunch here a few days after he died,” the veteran said. “Said a few words in his memory. That was it. Often is the way.”

  “So there was no funeral?”

  Jim shook his head. “His ashes went to his niece, I think. I’m sure I could find out.”

  “I don’t want to put you out.” Except he did, he really did. “But I would appreciate that enormously. I’d like to find a way to say goodbye to him.”

  “Well,” Jim said slowly. “I don’t know if it would be the same, but we did up a plaque for him. It’s in the back.” He stood up and nodded his head. “Follow me.”

  There were a few dozen plaques lining the walls. How many times had Matt been in this Legion hall for a stag and doe or a fundraiser, and he’d never noticed the solemn commemorations to the members who had died?

  Fred’s was near the end, but not the last one. The Legion had lost a couple other members in the intervening year, it looked like.

  Matt stopped and just looked. It had his name, his rank at time of release, his years of service. His birth date. And the date of his death.

  What a shitty day that was, Matt thought.

  Not at the start, though. They’d laughed and joked and shared stories.

  If Matt was going to die, he’d want the hours before his death to be like that. Talking about women and military service and professional duty.

  He’d talk about Natasha. About Emily. About cupcakes and taking chances.

  “I wish I could tell you about my life now,” he said quietly, looking at Fred’s picture. “It’s so different, man.”

  But he couldn’t because life was finite and fragile.

  He stood there for a while longer. It didn’t magically lift his guilt, but it did help sort some of his feelings out. Definitely gave him some new things to talk to the therapist about.

  And more than anything else, it made him want to go home and tell Natasha about his day. To wrap his arms around his woman and hold on tight.

  Epilogue

  December, again

  The day before Christmas Eve, Matt worked a half-shift, as a favour to cover Owen because his daughter had an emergency.

  He rarely pulled any extra shifts these days. He was too busy renovating the new Escape Inn, on the outskirts of Pine Harbour. If they kept to a good schedule, they might open in time for Valentine’s Day. He liked to joke that Natasha might have a boutique inn empire at this rate, and she liked to joke that he hated sleep.

  She wasn’t wrong. But he was getting better on that score every day. Balance and purpose in his life really helped.

  So did doing little things to make his fiancée happy—like picking up a newly cut Christmas tree the day before their wedding, so it would be as fresh as possible.

  Except that wasn’t such a little thing.

  And Natasha freaked out when she saw the one he’d picked. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Matt glanced behind him, following her gaze to the tree in the back of his truck. “What?”

  “That thing is not going to fit through the front door.”

  “Ah, sure it will.”

  “Matt!”

  “What?” His grin was so big he thought it might split his face open. Okay, so the tree was a bit big. Even bundled, it wasn’t contained in the bed of his pickup. It bulged proudly, promising thick green branches to hold the Christmas ornaments he’d been buying every time they stopped at a thrift store together over the last year. “I want to have a nice big tree. It’s an important date.”

  “There won’t be much room for our guests since the tree is going to take up half of the living room.”

  “I had a different idea. Let’s put it in the back hallway, outside the downstairs apartment. Next to the stairs. I think everyone would fit in there, and that would be a nice place to exchange vows.”

  “Did you just rewrite our entire wedding plan?”

  “Maybe.”

  She kissed him hard on the mouth. “I love it.”

  Natasha’s sister and her family arrived that night, checking into the upstairs apartment. Shortly after they arrived, Matt’s brothers came over to take their brother to the pub for a final drink as a single man.

  Meredith gave Tasha an are you freaking kidding me look, and as soon as the Fosters were out the door, she told Dan he was on bedtime duty for all three kids.

  “We have sister things to talk about,” she said. “Over tea.”

  “I’ve missed you,” Natasha said, laughing as she was dragged into the kitchen.

  “You never said Matt’s brothers were all equally hot.”

  Because they weren’t, but she didn’t think Meredith cared about Tasha’s opinion on the matter. She forced herself to stop giggling. “They’re all married.”

  “What? So am I. Dan’s definitely there in whatever firefighter-sandwich fantasy I might innocently have.”

  “There’s nothing innocent about you. And I didn’t need to know that about Dan, either.”

  “He looks great in yellow and red.”

  “Please stop. Also, none of them are firefighters.” She hesitated. “There is one coming tomorrow, though. Matt’s boss. Don’t grope him.”

  “I make no promises. What’s his name?”

  Natasha wiped happy tears from her eyes. “Owen. And he’s lovely. Don’t scare him away.”

  Of course Mer was all talk. The next night, Christmas Eve, she was the picture of sweetness as Natasha’s maid of honour. “None of this matron crap, right?”

  “Never,” Tasha promised her sister as they finished getting dressed with Emily in the downstairs apartment. “You look beautiful. And very maiden-ly.”

  They were all wearing lace. Meredith and Emily were both in red—Emily’s dress with a pink ribbon around the waist—and Natasha was in white.

  Their wedding might be small and intimate, but her dress was gloriously formal. It even had a little train, which she would bustle up immediately after the ceremony.

  A knock at the door interrupted their tearing up. Dani popped her head around the door. “Calvin’s ready,” she said, ducking into the room with her son.

  He was dressed in a tiny tuxedo.

  “And everyone is outside.”

  Nerves fluttered to life in Natasha’s chest. “Okay. We’re… ready, I guess. If Matt’s out there?”

  Dani nodded, her eyes wet. “He’s grinning like an idiot.”

  “Then let’s do this. Em, take Calvin’s hand. Dani, you can start the music.”

  Her new sister-in-law left, and then she heard the first strains of “Carol of the Bells”, the song she’d decided to walk down the aisle to. Or really, out the door to.

  Meredith went first, opening the door, and this time leaving it open. Then Emily and Calvin followed her, hand-in-hand. Her daughter had sprouted up in the last year, now proudly four-and-a-half.

  She was going to make the best big sister.

  They would tell her tomorrow morning.

  Tasha pressed a hand to her still-flat belly, then took a deep breath and stepped up to the doorway.

  Everyone in their family was there. Meredith and the kids had stepped up the staircase, moving out of her way. In front o
f them stood Matt, on the bottom step. Gorgeous and strong in a black suit.

  He held out his hand to her and she crossed the small landing to join him and the minister who had agreed to marry them.

  “My bride,” he whispered.

  She smiled and took a deep breath. “My husband.”

  After their vows, and a long, glorious kiss, Matt took Natasha’s hand and led everyone back to their side of the house for a dinner he’d made with his own two hands.

  Except for dessert—that was all his wife’s doing. She’d put herself in charge of the drinks, too, which meant she kept getting dragged from his arms.

  He didn’t mind, though. He had the rest of his life to hold her, and she was in her element as a hostess.

  And it meant that he could spend time with their guests—and notice when things were wrong. Tom kept checking his phone, and after the third hostile shove of the device back into his pocket, Matt sauntered over with two beers.

  He held one out to his friend. “Here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Tom wiped his face. “Nothing.”

  “Are you sure?” Matt gestured for the kitchen, and his friend—always in control, always stoic and reserved—stormed past him.

  Okay, so not nothing.

  He followed Tom through the door to the back of the house and found him pacing in front of the giant Christmas tree.

  His friend swore under his breath. “I didn’t mean to bring down your night. That was a really nice wedding.”

  “You aren’t doing anything to my night, it’s fine. What’s going on?”

  “Chloe’s pregnant,” Tom growled.

  That’s what he was blowing up his phone over?

  “Chloe who you hooked up with once before she rejected you?” If Tom was having misplaced jealously over an old fling, Matt didn’t have time for that.

  The growl got worse. “Chloe who I’ve been sleeping with for a year.”

  Ah. Not misplaced, and not jealousy. “Okay, well, congrats on keeping that a secret. And why are you pissed? Is it yours?”

  “Yes, the baby is mine. Except she’s taken off. She left me a note that she doesn’t expect anything from me. And now she’s not responding to any of my text messages.”