by Kathryn Shay
Because you’re drinking hard liquor. Her eye caught a pack of cigarettes half-hidden under the napkin. She picked it up. “These yours?” Though he’d have to smoke them outside.
He grabbed it out of her hand. “You’re not supposed to see those, little girl.”
“Dad, you only smoke when you’re stressed out.”
“I used to smoke all the time. Until I met your mother.”
Francey cocked her head. “Really? How’d she get you to stop?”
Her father’s face softened. He fingered the cigarette pack. “I can’t tell you that, honey. It’s too personal.” Ben took a swig of beer and upended the shot glass. Jimmy came over and refilled it with whiskey. “Hi, France. What’ll ya have?”
“Hi, Jimmy. A beer.” She named a popular brand.
Ben tossed the whiskey down in one swallow. “Your mother was so easy to please, you know,” he continued after Jimmy brought Francey’s beer. “Everything I did made her happy.”
Francey’s heart constricted at the raw ache in her father’s tone. “Everything except the firefighting.”
He nodded. His eyes got a faraway look in them. After a minute he shook off the mood. “Did you have a good time with her yesterday?”
“Yeah. She…she said she wants to spend more time with me.
“I know. She told me that when I talked to her on the porch.”
“You were yelling at her.”
“You heard us?”
“Not the words. Just the tone. What were you talking about?”
“Alex Templeton.”
“Really?”
“I told her not to encourage you with him.”
“Dad, Alex and I are only friends.”
Reaching over, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Honey, that’s the oldest trick in the book. He’s just biding his time till he can get you in the sack.”
“No, he’s not. We’re working at being friends.”
“Why?”
If I can’t have any more, I want that. Instead of telling her father the reason Alex had explained to her, she tried to sound convincing. “Dad, don’t you think I learned my lesson from you and Diana?”
“I hope so.”
“I did. She made you miserable.”
Gazing into space, Ben said hoarsely, “She made me happier than I’ve been in my whole life.”
Francey almost dropped her beer. “What?”
“Her leaving is what nearly killed me.” He stared over the bar. “This is the liquor talking.”
“No, I want to hear it.”
Ben swiveled on the stool and faced her fully. “Francey, I tried to be fair about this when you were growing up, but I know you’ve always resented your mother for leaving.”
“With good reason.”
“No, not really.”
“Then tell me about the truth.”
Ben sighed. “Diana and I were happier than anybody could have imagined. She was a good mother and an even better wife. When she left, she took a piece of me with her.”
“Is that why you never remarried?”
“Partly.”
“I never heard the whole story about her leaving. Want to tell me?”
“You want to hear?”
“Yeah.”
He braced his arms on the bar and stared ahead. “She hated the danger of firefighting. I didn’t know that until we’d been married for at least a year. One night I came home after a fire that had been on the news. I found her rocking Tony in his room, tears streaming down her face. She was terror stricken. From then on, I tried to keep everything from her. Later, just before we split up, I realized that only made things worse.”
“She was weak, Dad. Other women handle a firefighter spouse.”
“I know. Maybe she was weak. She couldn’t take the worry. This went on for six years. My job was the only thing we fought about.”
“I don’t remember you ever fighting.”
“You were too little.” He shook his head. “You know, she got worse after you were born. Somehow, having a girl made her even more frightened.”
“What happened at the end?”
Ben shuddered, and Francey reached out to squeeze his arm. “I came home one morning after a nasty fire. The blaze had gone on for hours, and I was beat. It was March, but colder than a bitch. I pulled into the driveway and your mother—” he swallowed hard “—was sitting on the front porch. Shivering. No coat on.” Her father’s voice caught. “God knows how long she’d been there. Her lips were blue, her hands like ice. Tears had almost frozen on her cheeks.”
“What was she doing?”
“Waiting for me. She was out of her mind with worry. Hadn’t even noticed the cold.”
“What did you do?”
“I took her to Emergency. They treated her for exposure. Then I called her parents.”
“I don’t remember them.”
“You were little when they died in that plane crash on one of their jaunts to Europe. They were never pleased that their princess had married a blue-collar guy like me, but to give them credit, they didn’t interfere until that morning.”
Francey watched him like a student hanging on her teacher’s next words.
“Her father was outraged by his daughter’s state. First he yelled. Then…then he got tears in his eyes. He begged me let him take her home—his home—get her some help.”
“I knew she had some kind of breakdown.”
“Yeah. They put her in a private clinic until she recuperated physically. Then the place kept her for a few weeks for psychological help.” Ben took a swallow of his beer. “When she came back, she was never the same. She was as fragile as a china doll.” He closed his eyes briefly. “She left about a month later for good—at the suggestion of the doctors and the strong urging of her father.”
“He shouldn’t have interfered.”
Ben faced her, his eyes blazing. “I’d do the same for you, Francey. I’d take you away from a man who was destroying you.”
Francey stared at him. “Dad, it’s not that way with Alex and me.” But a chill stole over her when she remembered the times she understood the attraction—and its inevitability—between her mother and father. Because she felt the same way about Alex.
“I hope to God it’s not, honey. I couldn’t bear for you to experience what I did when I lost your mother.”
He turned away, then, and signaled the bartender for another shot.
CHAPTER SIX
The breeze was cool, but it felt good. So did the early morning May sunshine that beat down on Alex. This was the fourth time he’d run with Francesca, and he was left gasping for air only half the time. The week at Chelsea’s gym and building up his miles these few days had given him some stamina.
“How you holding up, big guy?” Francesca asked from beside him, her breathing heavy but not strained. No designer clothes for her, like the dark green Ralph Lauren running suit he wore. Instead, she’d donned baggy gray sweats, but very good running shoes; her arm hugged her body in a sling.
“Fine. It hardly feels like my chest is being ripped apart at all anymore. I can even speak a little now as we run.”
She chuckled. “You’re a good sport.”
“Tell that to my screaming muscles.”
Frowning, she asked, “Are you really overdoing? We can slow down.”
“Not on your life. My ego can’t handle the shame of that.” They rounded a corner and hit a grassy incline in Highland Park, a city track of land with bike trails and paths for runners. They didn’t talk again until they were at the top of the hill.
“So,” she said casually, “how was your date this weekend?”
He hesitated. “I thought we weren’t going to discuss our dating others.”
“I wasn’t asking for the intimate details.”
Good, Alex mused, because there weren’t any. But the date had been the right thing to do. His accountant, a pretty brunette, was a witty, interesting woman who’d enjoyed dinner
at the Rio with him and a play afterward. Alex had appreciated his time with her, too. The only dark spot had been when he’d kissed her good-night.
Nothing, no sparks, nada.
Well, he figured philosophically, it usually took him time to get into the physical part of a relationship. He was thirty-six, not sixteen, and he chose his sexual partners carefully after he’d known them awhile.
“My date was pleasant,” he replied.
“Oh, good.” She stared ahead. “Look Alex.” She pointed to the trees that bordered the park and some tulips peeking through the dirt. “Aren’t those pretty?”
“Mmm,” he said, and couldn’t help smiling at how she took pleasure in little things. “Cast feeling okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” She lifted the sling away from her chest and held it up like a trophy. “This new one’s lighter. I can take a shower a lot easier now.”
As he’d forcefully done every time a sexual image of Francesca popped into his mind, he banished it. He wasn’t allowing any fantasies of her these days, especially one of warm water sluicing over that knock-’em-dead body. And there’d been no sexual innuendo from either of them. After the night at Chelsea’s gym, Alex had tried even harder to keep things light and maintain some distance from her. He’d sensed a shift in her, too, as if she’d experienced a renewed determination to be just friends. As they neared Park Avenue, they slowed to a jog.
“Want to stop for coffee at Charley’s Frog Pond?” she asked.
They’d gone to the local diner once after a run this week and chatted well into the morning. Alex had been late for work for the first time in months. He stalled his answer by checking his watch, trying to decide if he should chance the extra time with her. Sometimes it was better to limit his exposure to her.
“It’s okay, though, if you’re in a hurry,” she told him. “I have other things to do.”
“You’re really bored, aren’t you?”
They fell into a fast walk. “It’s better since I offered to go into the schools and do some fire-safety education. I’ll be at East High this afternoon to talk to their firefighting class about being a female on the line.” She referred to an innovative program—a two-year course in firefighting for city kids—at her old high school.
“You know, some people would just enjoy the time off.”
She threw him a sideways glance. “Oh, look who’s talking. Mr. Works-All-Hours. You were at the warehouse at midnight when the fire broke out.”
“Yes, well, there’s a lot to do.” He slowed to a lazy walk. “Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee and maybe even split a plate of your favorite frittata with you.”
“Split it?” she said, stopping short with shock. “You mean, like, share my food?”
He laughed and hooked an arm around her neck to give her a brief brotherly hug. “You, lady, are something else.”
oOo
They settled into the booth inside Charley’s Frog Pond. Francey studied the little restaurant, which sported frog wallpaper, toad statues and waitresses who wore frog T-shirts. She loved the place.
“So, what’s going on this week with you?” she asked him.
In the month since the fire, they’d gotten into the habit of sharing their schedules. Though Francey had resolved even more strongly after her talk with her dad to be just friends—she hardly noticed anymore what Alex looked like in a pair of shorts and how sexy his mussed hair was when it fell into his eyes—she wasn’t able to give up the friendship. Nor did she want to. She liked him and was sure she could keep the relationship platonic. She’d done the same thing with men all her life, hadn’t she? Hell, she spent ninety-five percent of her time with the opposite sex on a professional or friendship level.
“This week?” He sipped his favorite hazelnut coffee. “The warehouse is finally cleaned up, so I’m overseeing that.”
“What’s going on with the investigation?”
“I’m told they’re still interviewing people who had access to the building, neighbors, et cetera. But progress is slower than it should be because Zeleny is still out.”
“He’s home from the hospital, Dylan said.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Impulsively she reached out and touched Alex’s hand. She was surprised when he turned his over and linked their fingers. “I hope this is settled soon,” she told him.
“So do I.” He squeezed her hand, then let it go and reached for his mug. “In the meantime, I have to take a trip to Philadelphia. We’re thinking about buying a company there and I’m meeting with the president on Friday.”
“Buying a company?”
“Yes. They make the same processing products we do, and if we purchase them, we can shift their manufacturing to Rockford and double our output.”
“When would you go?”
“Thursday night, probably.”
“Philadelphia’s a great city.”
“Have you been there?”
“Only when I was little. But I’ve read books about the city and its fire department. My grandparents grew up there. Grandpa took us to see the Fireman’s Hall Museum near Independence Square when it opened. I was about five.”
The frittata arrived, and Alex placed the plate between them. She looked at the food as if it was ambrosia. “Try to save some for me, okay?” he teased as she dug in.
She took a big bite of potatoes and hot, spicy sausage. “Now this is bliss.”
“Tell me about the fire museum. I’m considering staying over the weekend.”
Francey frowned, but caught herself before she said anything. If he wanted to be away for a few days, that was his business. She just hadn’t realized how much she’d come to count on seeing him.
“It’s an old restored firehouse on Quarry Street. They have all sorts of firefighting memorabilia—old helmets, fire marks, displays of early fire wagons. I don’t remember everything—I’ve been meaning to go back sometime. Grandpa’s father, my great-grandfather, was a Philadelphia firefighter. There’s a plaque with his name on it somewhere there, I think.”
“Why haven’t you visited as an adult?”
“Too busy, I guess.”
“You should go now, when you’re off work.”
She bit into a piece of Italian bread, heavily buttered, that tasted like Grandma’s homemade. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought about the place in years.”
Alex was quiet; she looked up from the food. He was staring at her, his brows forming a vee. It was his deep-in-thought look.
“What?”
“I was trying to decide whether or not to ask you to come with me.”
“You seem…troubled by the thought.”
He let out a heavy breath, and his face grew serious. “I am. I’m struggling very hard to keep this friendship in line, Francesca.”
Carefully putting down her fork, she held his gaze. “So am I.”
He arched a brow. “Hmm. Then do you think we could spend a few days together as friends?”
In truth, suppressing her feelings had gotten harder every day. But the idea of getting out of town for a few days rivaled a gourmet meal. And she was dying to see the museum. And Alex was such good company…
Shit, she was making excuses. “It’s not the best idea in the world.”
“You’re probably right.”
She toyed with a crust of bread. “Do you, um, would you want me to go with you?”
“Of course I want you to go. But three days together might be too much contact. Given the fact that we’re trying to keep things cool between us.”
She swallowed a protest.
“On the other hand,” he said lightly, “we’re both adults. We should be able to manage seventy-two hours together without ripping each other’s clothes off.”
A blinding flash of desire swept through Francey as she pictured being naked with Alex. The image stunned her into silence.
“Listen to us. We sound like dithering idiots. I’m never this undecided.”
“Why don’t you
think about it, then?” he suggested.
She cleared her throat. “All right. So you’re leaving Thursday night?”
“Yes.”
“You’re probably flying.”
“I’d drive if you went with me.”
“Then I’ll tell you tomorrow morning when we run what I plan to do.”
oOo
Being in her uniform again felt right, Francey thought as she perched on the edge of a desk in a classroom at her alma mater, East High School, in front of six firefighters-in-training. They looked so young, so wide-eyed. God, had she ever been this eager? She glanced at Beth Winters, who’d come to address the class about EMS. The two of them had done their presentations and were fielding questions from the students.
A slim, small-boned girl raised her hand. Francey wondered if she’d have the strength to lift hoses and other fire-suppression equipment. “Yes?”
“What do you wear to bed at the firehouse?”
Almost every group she’d talked to asked her this question. It seemed silly to Francey. “Same thing the guys do. Gym shorts and a T-shirt.”
“Don’t the men’s wives mind your sleeping in the same room with them?”
“I’ve been with my group for eight years. I don’t think anybody worries about me,” she said dryly. “Some of the wives and girlfriends are even glad to see women in the department. They think our presence civilizes the men.”
“All right.” The class’s instructor, a smiling, gray-haired volunteer firefighter from a suburb of Rockford, called for their attention. “One more question.”
“Did you ever lose anybody in a fire?” a student asked Francey.
“Yes.” Her insides grew cold at the thought of the charred body she’d once carried out of a four-alarm fire. “You will, too. It’s horrible. You feel like you should have done something to prevent the fatality.” She cleared her throat. “And you can’t forget it. The job has a lot of downs—that’s the big one.”
After the teacher thanked Beth and Francey for coming, they headed to their cars. Francey glanced at her watch. “Do you have plans for dinner, Beth?”
Beth smiled. “It’s only four o’clock, France.”
“We could have a drink first and eat at five.”