by Alison Kent
“You didn’t drive him away,” he said, his voice firm but soft.
“I know that now. And I probably always knew it at some level. But that doesn’t help when I remember the horrible things—”
“Kaylie, stop,” he said, hunkering down in front of her, his hand on her socked foot where she hid it beneath the afghan. “You couldn’t have known. You only had a small piece of the picture. And for a lot of that time, you were a child.”
“I haven’t been a child for a while, Ten. And I’ve still had those thoughts.”
“So, put ’em away,” he said, as if it were nothing, easy. Nothing.
She would. But she couldn’t do it with him here. “I need you to go. I need to think. And to sleep. And I need to be alone.”
“If you’re sure.”
She could hear the hurt in his voice, but she couldn’t look up. “Just for tonight. I just…need time. To process all of this. I just…” She stopped, as what felt like a knife blade pierced from her stomach all the way to her spine, nearly doubling her over.
“Kaylie,” Ten said, surging forward to catch her.
“I’m fine.” Oh, what a lie that was. “I think I may have an ulcer, but I’m fine.”
“Do you need a doctor? Something to drink?”
She needed him to let her take care of herself. “No. I just need you to go.”
“I don’t like leaving you like this.”
“I promise I’ll call you if it gets worse. But I need to be alone now. Please. Don’t make me ask you again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Kaylie hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour when Magoo woke her with intent. He wasn’t growling at the window as he had when Ten stopped by, or whimpering to be let out for a trip to the yard. This was purposeful, his nudging at her shoulder, at her collarbone, her face. Exhausted, she pushed him away, pushed a second time when he insisted.
It was when he nipped at her cheek that she jumped, angry. And then she smelled smoke. Not the smoke of something burning in the kitchen. Neither she nor Dolly had cooked in the house today. And Mitch hadn’t been by since their trip two days ago to Austin. But this wasn’t the smell of food anyway. It had a harsh metallic tang. The smell of a cord burned through.
She jumped out of bed, scrambled into her pants, and grabbed her boots, her laptop, her phone and her knife, her keys and her tiny wallet. Barefoot, she ran down the stairs, one flight and then another with Magoo practically nipping at her heels. Her heart pounded in her chest even louder than her feet did on the new flooring as she crossed the kitchen, Magoo’s nails scrabbling behind her.
Ten never left any of his tools plugged in. Neither did Will. The appliances in the kitchen were all new and shouldn’t be shorting out or sparking. The renovations hadn’t required much in the way of new wiring, and every single connection and outlet had been tested within an inch of its life.
Dear God, what was burning? Where was the smoke coming from? She punched 9-1-1 on her phone as she ran out the kitchen door to her Jeep. Magoo jumped in first, and she tossed everything but her keys into the backseat, starting the engine and backing down the drive.
“Nine-one-one,” said a gruff male voice. “What is your emergency?”
“My house. I smell smoke. I think it’s on fire. At the corner of Second and Chances. My name is Kaylie Flynn. Hurry.”
Once the dispatcher assured her help was on the way, Kaylie dialed Ten. And it was just as he answered that she saw the first flame licking at the glass in the third-story window.
“Kaylie? Baby? Is it the nightmare?”
It was, but oh, this was so much worse. “My house is on fire!”
“What?” He yelled the word into the phone, and she heard him knock something over, cursing in the distance, coming back to her seconds later. “Where are you? Do you have Magoo?”
“We’re both in my Jeep. I pulled out onto Chances.”
“You need to get out of there.”
“Okay,” she said, but she wasn’t going anywhere. “Magoo woke me up. He smelled the smoke. If not for him—” A sob grabbed the rest of her words.
“Kaylie, I’m coming, baby. It’ll be fifteen minutes, but I’ll be there.”
As he said the last, the wail of sirens reached her. “I’ll let you go. I hear the fire truck.”
“Okay. Hang on.” He paused, then added, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said, and that was it. The emotion tearing through her spilled in buckets.
Hot tears streaked down her cheeks, blurring her vision, wetting her neck, her pajama top. Magoo stepped across the console onto the edge of her seat, and she wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his ruff. He smelled smoky and doggy and was so solid, his breath warm as he panted against her neck.
“Oh, Goo,” she said, straightening, swiping her sleeve over her snotty nose. “What’re we going to do if we lose our house?”
He gave a single bark, then began to growl as the fire engine and police cruiser both pulled to the curb on Second. “It’s okay, Goo. They’re the good guys.” She found her boots in the back and slipped them on, then gave Magoo his visual command, followed by a verbal “Stay.”
She climbed down from the Jeep, circling it to lean against the hood, waiting as the team of volunteer firemen got busy hooking up their gear. It wasn’t long before the man in charge approached, crossing the yard at a rapid clip.
“Miss Flynn? Kaylie? Are you all right? Is there anyone inside?”
Wade Parker. Carolyn’s husband. She’d met him during Two Owls’ trial run. “I’m okay. I was the only one inside besides my dog. He woke me or I don’t think either one of us would’ve gotten out.”
He gave her a nod. “Do you have any idea what we’re looking at? I know the place has been under construction.”
“It has, and I think I smelled something like wiring, but not from the first floor.”
“What I’m hearing is that it’s on the third. We’ll see if we can keep it from spreading. But I’d like you to move your Jeep a little farther down the street to be safe.”
“Okay,” she said, climbing behind the wheel and backing down the road, stopping when a set of headlights appeared in her rearview mirror, and a truck she could tell was Ten’s slid to a stop behind.
He was out and running toward her before she could do more than shift into park. As she turned off the engine, he jerked open her door, and she fell into his arms, holding him, her tears already shed.
“God, Kaylie. Did I do this?”
She stayed glued to him, shook her head against his chest. “No. I saw flames on the third floor. I think it was electrical. Something in the way the smoke tasted.”
He brought up a hand to cup the back of her head. “I’m so sorry. Is Wade here? Have you talked to him?”
“I just told him what I knew. I guess now all we do is wait,” she said, and hearing Magoo whining behind her, she reached back. Ten kept his hand on hers as she held the dog’s head to her shoulder. Beneath her cheek, Ten’s heart raced as fast as hers, and she wondered if tomorrow she’d find bruises there.
“I cannot believe this is happening. I should’ve checked all the connections upstairs. You’re living there, for chrissakes. I should’ve checked everything.”
This wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The house had fallen into disrepair, and she’d rushed the renovations. Nothing had turned up in the original inspection to lead her to believe she was living in a tinderbox, but she should’ve been more diligent, more thorough. She shouldn’t have been so desperate to get the renovations started.
She shouldn’t have used the house as an excuse to avoid the search for her parents.
A man moved into her peripheral vision, smeared as it was by her tears. He wore a T-shirt and jeans and, she thought, sandals. Mitch. Her father. The man she’d so cruelly assumed had never wanted her and walked out. The man who’d spent his life looking for her, giving up only when he’d run out o
f places to look.
She’d hated him for so long, hated him without knowing him at all. She’d imagined the worst possible reasons for his abandoning her, and every imagining had been so far from the truth it hurt. She’d thought more than once since she’d met him how cruel Mitch’s family had been to leave him. And here she was, that very family who’d left.
Just as she started to go to him, a loud crash from the house had her whipping her head around. Sparks shot from the roof like fireflies to disappear into the dark. Flames licked toward the branches of the nearest trees. Dear Lord, please not her trees! She hugged Ten tighter and watched the spray of water soak the leaves, turning the ground below into muck. Her azaleas would be ruined!
And then she started crying again. How many things had she lost? She was safe. Magoo was safe. She had her laptop with ten years of her life’s records. But she didn’t have May’s wingback chair, or the bed where she’d made love with Ten. It was a sentimental loss; her memories were safe, her heart full of them, but losing her bed so soon after giving herself to him seemed so huge in the moment, she almost couldn’t breathe.
When she looked back for Mitch, he was gone, and she shook off the strange need that had her wanting to follow. How had he known about the fire? Where had he been that he’d arrived so quickly after she’d called 9-1-1? Did he hate her for the way she’d reacted to hearing the truth about him? Did he know she didn’t mean it when she’d told him she didn’t want him around?
She stood for what seemed like hours wrapped in Ten’s arms, then watched the fire truck pull away. Ten took care of talking to the fire captain and the officers on scene, leaving her side only long enough to do that. Once finished, he led her to his truck, lifting her into the front seat when her feet didn’t want to move. “C’mon. You’ll stay with me tonight.”
“My things—”
“I’ll get what’s in your Jeep. You stay here,” he said, and shut the door.
She watched him walk to where she’d parked, watched him reach into the back for her laptop and knife and wallet. He pulled her keys from the ignition and motioned Magoo out. The dog followed, and when he opened the passenger-side door, Magoo jumped in beside her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and mouthed thank you to Ten as he slid her laptop beneath the seat. He nodded, shut the door, then came back to climb behind the wheel. As they drove away, Kaylie closed her eyes, not wanting to see her house, dark and all alone in the middle of the night.
Two Owls’ Brownie Bouquet
april showers bring flowers for may
1¼ cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
8 ounces unsalted butter
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups sugar
4 large eggs
Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease or spray with cooking oil and flour (or line with aluminum foil) an 8 x 8–inch baking pan.
Sift the flour with the salt into a bowl and set aside. Melt the butter and the chocolate in a double boiler (or in a microwave), stirring often so as not to burn the chocolate. Mix in the vanilla and 1 cup of the sugar and stir until smooth. In another bowl, stir the eggs into the remaining cup of sugar. Mix half of the sugar-egg mixture into the chocolate batter. Use an electric mixer to whip the remaining sugar-egg mixture, 2–3 minutes, until thick and pale. Slowly fold the whipped mixture into the chocolate batter. Add the flour mixture and stir gently until blended.
Pour the batter into the prepared baking pan. Bake 30–35 minutes, or until an inserted tester comes out mostly clean. Cool completely before cutting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Creeping out of Ten’s bed before dawn, Kaylie told Magoo to stay put and set off on her own for the house. She’d seen it in the dark of the wee hours, lit by flames and spinning red-and-blue beacons, smoky and wet and sad, but she needed to see it at first light.
To watch the sun rise behind it, the yellow-white beams winnowing through the trees to touch what remained of the new shutters. To dry up the ashy water puddled black in the yard. To show her the extent of the physical damage, not just what she’d imagined last night. She needed to be alone and measure that loss against the one charred and dark, deep in her chest.
She drove past her Jeep where it sat on Chances, parking at the very end of the driveway, and climbed onto the hood of Ten’s work truck she’d borrowed, absorbing, grieving, trying to find solid ground. Trying to find acceptance. Less than three months ago she’d stood in this yard and held the keys in her hand for the very first time. Her keys. Her house. Her ten-year dream of returning fulfilled.
This house had been her whole life. The richest love she’d ever known, and absolute joy, and keening, wretched sorrow. She owed her very being to Winton and May Wise. Their nurturing had come without effort, as sure and true as summer sun, brown leaves of autumn, bare blue winter, and new spring.
She wondered if she’d lost the pictures of the seasons she’d decided on as dining room accents. She’d moved them to the parlor for the trial run, having no time to hang them before inviting her friends to eat. She wondered about her furniture stored on the second floor, if the wingback chair was gone, or the afghan. All of the café’s linens would be ruined by the smoke, if not the flames. And the windows’ lace panels, too. But maybe the front door’s stained glass had survived. She’d have to get closer—
At the sound of an approaching truck, she turned, smiling to herself at the sight of Ten. She hadn’t left him a note—he would know where to find her—having planned to be back before he got out of bed. She’d wanted to shed this sorrow with her clothes when she climbed in beside him. She’d wanted him to make her, if only for those moments beneath his body, forget.
He walked toward her, holding up her phone. “You forgot this.”
“No, I didn’t,” she told him, taking it from his hand when he drew close. “I needed to be alone. I needed peace and quiet.”
“Don’t do that again. Leave it in your pocket if you don’t want to talk, or turn it off, or whatever, but take it with you. You could have a flat, or an accident, or get—”
She cupped her palm over his mouth. “Did you tell Magoo you’d be back?”
He nodded and kissed her palm. “He’s settled in with fresh water and the mess he made clawing around in the blankets I laid out for him.”
“He has to have his bed just right.”
“Reminds me of someone else who likes more than her share of the covers.”
“I do not,” she said, leaning into him when he sat beside her, hooking her arm through his. She loved that he’d taken her home.
Later, after the sun hit the ugly spoils of the third floor where it was wet like an oozing gash, he asked, “Do you think you’ll rebuild?”
She hated that her house would have a scar. “I hope I don’t have to start from the ground up, but it looks pretty bad. I’ll have to see what the insurance people say. Then get a contractor inside to determine the extent of the damage.”
“I happen to know one.”
“I thought you might.”
They were silent for a long time after that. Until Kaylie couldn’t be silent anymore. “I should never have rushed into this. I should’ve taken more time. Hired an inspector who would find the termite damage. And the water damage. And the electrical—”
“This isn’t your fault, Kaylie,” he said, pressing her hand between his. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”
“It is not! I told you that last night.”
He ignored her and went on. “I hadn’t had time to go through the attic. I should have. I know Will was up there a lot, but if I’d looked specifically—”
“Listen to me.” As much as she loved him, it wasn’t hard to guess where this guilt trip was coming from. “You think you failed me. You didn’t. You think you would’ve seen whatever this was. Maybe you would have. But maybe not.” She took a deep breath and hoped she
was right. “Just like you think if Robby Hunt hadn’t stayed with you that night, he wouldn’t have assaulted Indiana, and Dakota would never have served time.”
“That’s hardly—”
“I’m not done. Robby could’ve assaulted Indiana when you weren’t there to stop him. And she might never have told you, to protect you, to protect Dakota. Whenever, wherever, the fault would’ve been Robby’s. Not yours. Never yours. I know your sister would agree with me. And I have a feeling your brother would, too.”
He stared down at their joined hands, brooding, sober. “My head wants to believe you. But my heart…”
“I know,” she said, and didn’t say anything more.
“How did you get to be so smart?”
She wanted to be flip, to tease him, but her path to this place had not come easily. “If I was smart, I would’ve told you sooner that I love you. Because I meant what I said on the phone last night. I love you, Tennessee Keller. I love you with all my heart.”
“I love you, baby. I had wanted to tell you long before that, but I could never find the right time.”
“It was the perfect time. It was when I most needed to hear it. And when I most needed to say it. Because it was when I most needed you.”
Ten wrapped his arm around her and drew her close, resting his chin on her head, holding her hands in his lap. Kaylie thought she’d be perfectly happy if she never moved again, and they were still sitting there, still happy, several minutes later when Luna’s car pulled to a stop behind Ten’s truck.
Ten glanced over his shoulder, then down at her, nudging her off the hood. “Go on. Talk to Luna. I’ll be here.”
She kissed him before she hopped down, opening her arms for her friend as they reached the end of the driveway together. Luna rushed forward and held her and rocked her and cried. “This is all my fault,” she said, while still in Kaylie’s embrace, pulling back to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
Kaylie understood Luna’s guilt, but not over the fire. “Of course it’s not your fault. The fire department is pretty sure it was a wire and a very sorry squirrel.”