“You want this order bagged separately, right, Mr. Beck?” Julia Ortman asked from the end of the aisle. She couldn’t be more than fourteen, yet here she was bagging his groceries. It was only four years ago he’d stood in for her deployed father for the Donuts with Dad event at the elementary school.
“Yes, please.” He handed Julia his stack of reusable bags. “How are your parents doing?”
“Great. My baby brother just learned to walk, so they’re busy chasing him all around.”
“Tell them I said hi, okay?” Thomas grabbed a pack of Hubba Bubba from the candy rack. He skimmed the bar code across the scanner, waited for the beep, then handed the gum to Julia.
“Thanks, Mr. Beck.”
Thomas left the grocery store with the firehouse groceries piled on the front seat of his Bronco. But rather than heading straight to work, he turned right and drove south. He parked on the street directly in front of the one-bedroom chalet. In the postage-stamp yard, the two preschool girls were blowing bubbles together. On the night of the fire, after he’d saved their older brother, and their pregnant mother, he’d found the girls huddled together in an upstairs closet. They’d been scared of him, so he’d taken off his mask, forgoing his oxygen so they’d come to him. One of the many things he’d been reamed for by the captain.
Andrea Henley, their mother, rose from her seat next to her older son on the porch swing, a bundle of blankets in her arms. “Let me help.”
“I got it.” Thomas opened the back of the Bronco, then looped handle after handle of the grocery bags over his forearms, except for the bag containing the bread. He handed that to the youngest girl, who always loved to help him carry the groceries in. “Layla, can you lead the way?”
Once inside, Thomas unloaded the dry goods onto the counter until they’d taken up half the space. The old fridge, which hummed loudly, was nearly empty before he refilled it with eggs, butter, cheese, meat, and all the children’s favorite fruits and vegetables. Serena, the five-year-old, tugged on his shirt.
“What’s this?” he asked, taking the picture she had drawn.
“It’s your fire truck. It’s for you.” She was the spitting image of her mother, whereas Layla and Bridger were much fairer in their skin tone and eye and hair color. They’d taken after their no-good bum of a father, he guessed.
“I’ll hang it on the fridge at the firehouse as soon as I get there.”
The two girls stayed under his feet as he finished filling the refrigerator. Not that there was any other place for them to go. The bedroom was packed full with the two bunk beds he’d purchased a few days after the fire had burned up all their possessions. Without insurance, they were left with nothing. But at least they’d all survived.
“How’s Bridger liking school?” Thomas could see the back of the boy’s head through the window where he remained on the swing.
“He loves it. He even made a friend.”
“Is he talking any more?”
“Not really,” Andrea said, swaying a tiny infant back and forth.
“Words are overrated anyway.” Thomas pulled a folded check from his back pocket. “Here’s the rent for this month.”
“You’re too generous.”
The least he could do, since he was the reason they were in this predicament in the first place. After a chance meeting in July, he’d discovered the family’s dire straits. Andrea’s boyfriend had left them with nothing—no money, no family, and no food. He’d known that old house’s electrical wasn’t up to code. And yet, he’d still let them stay there while he arranged for them to move into this rental property. It had nearly cost them their lives. Just like if he’d been less distracted, Ella wouldn’t have drowned. He couldn’t go back, not for the Henleys and not for Ella, but he could help make their world better from this moment on. He’d stop at nothing.
A project, Cassie might say. What was so wrong with trying to help people?
“That’s the last rent check for this place. I’ve found you a house. It’s close to the school, and it has the perfect yard for building a snowman or playing football. It has three bedrooms and an office so you can do your medical transcription.”
“I can’t afford that kind of house—”
“You don’t have to. I’m buying it for you.”
“What?”
“Remember when I told you about that movie? Well, they paid me a lot of money for the rights to my life story. I want you to have that money.”
“No.”
“Andrea, it isn’t a choice. You need it. And the kids need stability. After what—” Thomas glanced at the little girls peering up at him like he was Jesus himself. Thomas shuddered. “After what he did to you all, the kids need something normal. I want to give it to them. There are some legal hoops to clear, but then we’ll move you in.”
Tears spilled over Andrea’s lashes, pulling the mascara with them. When her shoulders began to shake, Thomas reached for the infant. Other than Anabelle, he’d only held babies in the line of duty. But never one this tiny. Only three weeks old, yet he was alert as can be. Little Thomas Henley, named after him. It lodged a stone in his throat. He didn’t deserve this honor.
Maybe if Blue knew that, she’d understand the sham this movie was.
* * *
* * *
During the day, Ollie’s was as empty as a movie set during the Oscars. Pastor Joe, who also owned the place, mopped the floor, although it looked just as dirty afterward as it did before. On a far table, a waiter rolled silverware and had created quite a pyramid.
“Hiya,” the perky woman said, taking a seat across from Blue. The daylight streaming through the window brightened her hair to a near-white color. Surprising. Thomas liked girls with darker hair. Not blondes. “I’m Hallie. I’ve always wanted to meet you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You’re a legend. Thomas would tell story after story about what you used to do around these parts. Is it true you put a leash on a buffalo once?”
“Uh, I don’t recommend that.” Blue opened her notebook to a fresh sheet of paper, then looked up to see Hallie’s awestruck expression. “It was a little one. And it was before I knew better.”
“What was it like being married to Hunter Dean? I bet he isn’t as cute in real life, right? What he did to you was so wrong. I’m Team Blue five hundred percent.”
My goodness. This girl was . . . spirited. She reminded Blue of Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz. Blue looked around for Munchkins to appear with ruby slippers. “How long did you and Thomas date again?”
“Nine months.”
Blue took a drink of her soda. Nine months? Thomas had dated this woman for nine months? And she’d never once hopped in a bubble and floated away?
“Can you tell me about your time together?”
“Okay, first, he was a total gentleman always. He treated me like I was a queen. He was the first real good guy I dated, so he showed me that I was worthy of respect, you know? It was strange dating a man who was more interested in seeing my heart than, well, everything else, if you catch my drift.”
Gooseflesh rippled across Blue’s arms. Thankfully, she’d kept her coat on so Glinda, er Hallie, couldn’t see. Blue didn’t want to imagine Thomas having intimacy of any kind with a woman, especially one as beautiful as Hallie. She inwardly scolded herself. She’d been allowed to have a passionate marriage, yet she’d expected Thomas to sit around pining for her all the while? Even though the guy had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t see her as anything more than a friend. Not then and certainly not now.
“Did you love him?” Blue shouldn’t ask. This wasn’t an interview about Thomas’s love life.
“I thought so. But maybe I just loved the way he treated me. He was constantly making sure I had everything I needed. Was I cold, hungry, scared, behind on my bills . . . ? If the answer was
yes to any of those, he would fix it right away, whatever the problem. It was nice. He honored me, always put me first, and was my best friend. After those first few months, I would have put a ring on it, if you know what I mean.”
She’d wanted to marry him? Blue forced the gears in her mind to shift, thankful the grinding sound was only in her head. “Can you tell me about any heroic acts you might have witnessed?”
“Oh yeah. When we dated over the summer, his heroics weren’t too crazy. Like, we were eating dinner at the Angry Buffalo, and this little boy started choking. Thomas gave him the Heimlich, and he was fine. Another time, we went ziplining at this janky place up in Helena. A teenage boy was goofing off and slipped out of his harness. He was hanging there twenty yards above the ground until Thomas was able to grab him.”
Blue jotted down the notes, fighting the urge to scream, lest she frighten the Good Witch of the North away. She’d been working on this script all month, but she still didn’t have any explanation for why Thomas did the things he did. This was good and all, but it didn’t give her any answers.
“Everything changed in August, though.” Hallie’s demeanor darkened. “The day your daughter died.”
The pencil dropped from Blue’s hand and rolled off the table. She reached down to pick it up, but the air in the restaurant turned thin, and she nearly passed out. She righted herself in her seat. The pencil would have to wait. Blue’s thoughts matted together, the way river water matted locks of hair, forming a shield that fell over her eyes and blinded her. All she could see were the still frames of her darkest day, cracked and filtered with sorrow. She gave a shake of her head. Her vision cleared, but still, she couldn’t speak.
“He had only been the safety director for a couple months. It was more than a job to him—keeping his coworkers and the residents safe. It was like, a calling. So when . . . you know . . . he blamed himself. Something broke inside him, I think. It was like he couldn’t find the light anymore. That was when he started putting his life in danger to help others.” Hallie dropped her eyes to her lap. “It scared me. He almost sought out those situations.”
Hallie reached over and squeezed her hand, letting it linger just long enough for her compassion to pass through. Long enough to let Blue know someone, anyone, was near.
Blue cleared her throat, though the thickness remained. So it had been his job to look out for the people on the river. She could almost hear Hunter saying I told you so, and it made her heart ache. Maybe talking about Thomas’s love life was easier after all. “What did that mean for you and Thomas?”
Hallie’s smile returned briefly. “After the accident, he lost all the joy I’d once seen. I realized then that though he was my best friend, I wasn’t his. I could still talk to him about things, but he seemed a million miles away. And he never really opened up to me. Not about his childhood or the thoughts that seemed to plague him. Plus, every day when he left, I didn’t know if that would be the day he finally gave his life for someone else.”
Hallie dug a hand in her hair. “So I had to protect my heart. I told him we were better off as friends, and that was that. The hardest part was that he didn’t even fight me when I broke up with him. He said, ‘I understand,’ and that was it.”
Blue searched for her pencil. Where had it gone?
“Anyway, I don’t know if that helps or not. I want him to be happy. Find someone he can confide in and love, not just be the guy everyone else confides in and loves. I know he’s been dating that paramedic. Maybe she’s the one for him. I don’t know. I hope one day he finds the peace I couldn’t give to him.”
Chapter Thirteen
The first truly significant snow of the year seemed to have stalled right above Ollie’s. On the road, a pickup truck with a plow attached to the front passed by, creating a gray path in a sea of white. Her sports car looked like it was confused. Southern California this was not. Blue found her scraper and tried dusting off the snow. But the heavier stuff from earlier had frozen to a thin sheet of ice that would need scraping. Not unlike this script. Was Teddy Woodward expecting a lighthearted Mr. Deeds feel-good film? Because Hallie’s interview had taken it to a deeper, more layered place. That was good for Blue’s career. She knew enough about movies to recognize the elements of award winners. Now if only Blue could muscle through her own pain to write it.
As she reached across her windshield, her feet slipped. The roads would be just as slick. Driving along rivers was hard enough when you had to avoid looking at the water. But driving along rivers on ice? As if on cue, her phone buzzed in her coat pocket, signaling a text.
Thomas: The roads are getting bad. Call if you need a lift.
The shaky intake of breath nearly froze her lungs. Such a good man and yet, he’d been on the river the same time as Ella. Maybe he hadn’t done anything wrong, but could he have prevented her death somehow? Was that why he’d vowed to find Ella that day? Was he just fixing his own mistake—a mistake that the investigation missed? And could she ever look at Thomas and see her friend? Or the man who blamed himself for the tragedy that stole everything from her?
Right now, that didn’t matter. She needed a ride.
* * *
* * *
Thomas kept his eyes focused ahead. The snow was falling too hard for the plows to keep up, so staying between the edge lines required memory. Fortunately, he’d driven this same path home since he was sixteen. “Blue, I’m not trying to parent you, but—”
“I know, I know. I’ll start driving my father’s Escalade instead.” A side-glance found her picking at her nails, just like every time she was due to return to LA for school. He itched to still her fingers with a touch, but he needed both hands on the wheel for this drive. Convenient excuse.
“How are the interviews going?”
“Good. I just met with Hallie. She’s . . .”
“Don’t say it.”
“Happy. And blond. I thought you liked brunettes and redheads.”
Thomas pushed out a breath. “I’ve dated blondes before.”
“Name one.”
“Uh, Hallie.”
“Besides her.”
Thomas did a quick scan of his dating history. Hallie had been the only one. But that didn’t mean he didn’t find others attractive. Blue had defined beauty for him since he was four years old. “You’re blond.”
“But we never dated.”
Might as well have. He hadn’t wanted to date anyone else. The plan had always been for Blue to get her degree from USC then come back here to write her scripts. He’d waited four long years for her to return, only to learn that she’d fallen for Hunter Dean Lawrence and the Hollywood lifestyle instead.
“What’d she have to say?” Thomas snuck a peek at her in his periphery. She was looking out her window, away from the river.
“She said she loved you and would’ve married you. But she didn’t think you felt the same.”
“And yet, Hallie broke up with me.”
“Only because she was worried you’d end up getting yourself killed one day. And because you didn’t have the . . . same passion for her that she had for you.”
He scoffed. “Hallie didn’t need passion. Especially after her past with guys. She needed respect and honor.”
“That’s admirable. I’ll give you that. But a girl wants to know you long to be close to her.”
“Passion only leads to bad things. Look at my parents. They were passionate, and we saw where that got them.”
“Your parents’ marriage wasn’t a good example. Passion in a healthy marriage is a good thing.”
“I think the key word there is marriage.”
“But how will you decide to marry someone if you don’t let yourself feel things toward them? I’m not talking about crossing any boundaries. I’m talking about the emotional side of a relationship. Opening yourself up to someone. Letting them in. Con
fiding in them.”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing now? With you?”
“But I’m not your girlfriend. You need to confide in Val. Does she even know how you feel about her? Do you even know how you feel about her?”
If he weren’t driving, he could give Blue that look. She’d know how he felt about her prying. And probably also about his relationship with Val.
The Bronco lost traction a bit, jolting Thomas’s nerves. His eyes followed a set of tire marks that crossed the center line into some disturbed snow on the road’s shoulder, markedly different from the smooth bluffs. Whatever car had made those tracks had gone over the edge into the river, and recently, too. With as much ease as he could, he slowed the Bronco, parked on the shoulder, and turned on the hazard lights.
“What are you doing?” Blue asked.
Thomas jumped out of the truck and jogged across the road. A Porsche Panamera had lodged itself in the river, its nose sitting in two or three feet of water. The current was strong here. Strong enough to wash a car away to a section where emergency help would have a harder time getting to it. Fortunately, there were some large boulders in the river that were likely trapping the vehicle in place. At least for now.
He hastened back to the Bronco. From the back seat, he grabbed a flashlight, some flares, and a rope.
“What happened?”
“A car went into the river. I’m going in. Call 911.” Thomas perked his ear. Beyond the river’s rushing sound, he heard the cry of a child. Blue must have heard it, too, considering how her face wrinkled. For the first time since she’d moved back, he saw her turn her eyes toward the river. “Stay here.”
Thomas left the Bronco, then quickly set off two flares on the road. The last thing he and the Porsche’s occupants needed was another car sliding on top of them. He glanced at his Bronco one more time. Good. For once in her life, Blue listened to Thomas and stayed in the car. He couldn’t help these people if he was worrying about her.
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