Forged by Fire: A Small Town Second Chance Romance

by Cleveland, Eddie

  “This is a fuckin’ joke, right?” Clyde growls.

  “It’s not.” Byron shakes his head.

  “Fuck you, Murphy, you cheating son of a bitch!” Todd lunges at me and wraps his hand around my throat.

  Next thing I know, chairs flip. Clyde jumps at the new chief. People scatter in all directions. Byron hollers for some kind of order and my windpipe is being crushed down by Todd Baker. Suddenly the door to the outside flings open.

  From the shadows steps in what can only be described as an angel. The bright, fluorescent lights create a halo of light around her head that cascades down her golden locks and shimmers off her dewy skin. In the midst of this ridiculous chaos is the very definition of beauty. In the middle of an ugly brawl that would make old-timey saloons look like a dignified gentlemen's club is the girl who shattered my heart when I sent her off to New York. Except she’s not a girl anymore. Clearly, she blossomed in New York. Her breasts have grown heavier, her lips look softer, her eyes wiser … she’s grown into a stunning woman. And I missed it.

  I missed out on every day with her. Every moment was stolen from me so I could “do the right thing” and stay here. As I glance around the turmoil exploding in the room, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. It’s never been so clear that I made the wrong choice.

  My voice is stuck in my throat and it has nothing to do with Todd’s tight fist squeezing around my flesh. “Karen,” I whisper.

  13

  Karen

  Carefully holding the cake my mother baked in front of me, I step inside the fire department. “What the hell?” I squeak, my eyes blinking fast, like what I’m witnessing is some kind of hallucination that I just need to snap out of. Off the sides of the room are a bunch of town folk who are transfixed by the men fighting in the middle of the room.

  I clutch onto the sides of the platter tight. My heart races and a flush of heat washes over me. Of course, the fat guy on the floor with his shirt tangled up over his big belly and his ass crack hanging out of the back of his saggy jeans is my father.

  Of course it is.

  I have no idea who he’s wrestling with on the floor, but I don’t need to. There’s zero chance that man caused this fight. Knowing my father, there’s no doubt in my mind about who started it.

  I look down at the white frosted cake with the red script that cheerfully announces a “Congratulations!” to the fire chief. Back at my parents’ house, it was assumed Dad would be voted back in. From the way he’s laid out on top of that guy, twisting his arms up behind his back and yelling so much his face looks like an exploding tomato, I guess that didn’t happen.

  The door clicks shut behind me and I’m frozen to the spot. This is exactly why I moved out of this town. My family already has a bad reputation for turning their property into miles of twisted metal and scrap, an eyesore that can probably be seen from space. Add to that the infamous temper of the Baker boys, Todd and my father being the worst ones, and you’ve got a humiliating family tree I’ve spent many nights wishing someone had cut the branches off of.

  Byron lunges toward Dad and he lifts him by the back of the shirt and his pants clean off the other guy. I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe deep. Why can’t this just be a dream? Isn’t that how most people feel when they go back to see their families? Like they’re in a relaxing, floating dream world? Like they’re still a little embryo that’s safely and snugly surrounded in the love and warmth of their mother’s womb? I mean, that’s how Hallmark always makes it look during their Christmas specials.

  My eyes snap open and there’s nothing warm or cozy about this shit-show. My gaze is pulled to the side of the room and my deep breathing turns to shallow hyperventilating.

  It’s Luke.

  I mean, I knew there was a good chance I’d see him here. I played this out in my mind. How I’d casually but coldly smile at him. How I’d let him see that I’m fine. I turned out great and the heart he ripped into a million flakes of confetti healed up perfectly.

  Basically, I was ready to lie.

  “Luke! Watch out!” I cry as my brother Todd cocks back his fist, ready to launch the full force of it against the bridge of Luke’s nose.

  He looks from me to Todd and seems to wake up from a trance. Luke goes from acting like he’s moving underwater to snapping his head quickly out of the way just as my brother’s knuckles crunch into the cement wall behind him. Todd yowls like a cat in heat, shaking his hand as Luke pushes past him toward me.

  “Karen,” he calls out.

  I start shuffling away, not watching where I’m going, just needing to make space between us. Between our bodies. Between our souls. The calm and cool act I’ve been working on in my head is quickly crumbling. Just seeing Luke again, really seeing him, not just remembering the years we had together, the way we grew up in each other’s arms, the endless moments that shaped my childhood, it’s too much. I need to get out of here.

  “Fucking cocksucker, I’ll smash the shit out of you!” Todd barrels toward Luke and pushes him from behind. Luke stumbles forward, launching across the small gap between us, and falls into me. The heavily frosted cake flips up into the air, the word “Congratulations” falling down toward my face, but I can’t look away.

  “No!” Luke yells, but it’s too late. The cake explodes down over my hair and spongy layers crumble down the sides of my face and spill onto the floor. Everything smells sickly sweet as I smear frosting from the sides of my face and fling my hands toward the mess.

  “Oh, shit.” Todd stops in his tracks, but he doesn’t look sorry. If anything, he looks like he’s trying not to laugh. And that just perfectly sums up me and my family, I guess. He’s standing there trying not to bust a gut and I’m doing everything I can to try not to cry. “Sorry, sis.” His voice couldn’t possibly sound less convincing.

  The crowd around us stops cold. Everyone is staring at me. Everyone including Luke. I can’t take it. I turn on my heel and rush out of the building, leaving the cake and my mother’s platter on the floor. Rushing out into the night, I leap for my car, keys in hand, tears blinding my already restricted sight.

  “Karen! Wait up. Please, don’t run away. Please,” Luke begs, but I don’t stop. I can’t turn around and face him. I hardly had any chance of holding it together when I was just supposed to drop off the cake and go. Let alone now. I look like a one-year-old whose rich parents gave me my own cake just to smash up for the cute pictures they can splatter all over social media.

  Except none of this is cute. It’s mortifying.

  “Karen, don’t go. I need to talk to you,” he calls out.

  I don’t know why, but I freeze. My hand hovers over my car door handle and I don’t move. Everything inside my brain is screaming to get in and drive away, but I can’t. There’s something about his voice, the one I’ve been longing to hear for so many years now. It’s so earnest. It roots me to this spot the same way my memories root me to him.

  “I have nothing to say to you.” I’m not brave enough to turn and face him. Instead, I stare down at the car.

  “Please, talk to me.” His voice cracks. “Turn around. Don’t worry about the cake, you’re beautiful. Just don’t hide from me anymore.” Luke steps forward.

  My heartbeat quickens. How many times have I imagined him saying I’m beautiful? How many times did he used to say this to me, gently tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear and giving me a sweet but simple kiss? The old times bring me back and, for a second, I feel like I'm floating as I do turn around. I study him. He’s older now, much more handsome than I remember. There’s a rope attached inside him, to his heart, and on the other side it’s wrapped around mine. Something is winching us together, pulling us in little by little until there are mere inches between our bodies. He smells like cedar and recklessness. I must smell like cake.

  “Karen, there’s so much I need to say to you. I never thought I’d see you here again,” he murmurs.

  And then, just like that, the rope snaps. Of course
, he never thought he’d see me again. He told me to leave without him and never return. He told me I’m “Not worth it,” I repeat the phrase he used to shatter my heart.

  “What?” Luke blinks.

  “I’m not worth it, remember?” Anger flashes through me and the spell is broken. I step back and fumble with my car door until I manage to fling it open.

  “No, wait, I can explain.” He holds up his hands.

  “What’s to explain? I’ve been gone for years and you never even texted me, Luke. Now all of a sudden you’ve got things to say? I wasn’t worth your time then and I’m sure not now.” I jump inside and start up the engine with a roar.

  Luke lunges toward my little hatchback, but I throw it in drive and I’m not sure how I didn’t run over his foot as I squeal out of the parking lot. Tears nearly blind me and my nose is running. Every time I try to wipe it all away, I just smear more frosting across my face. In the rearview mirror, I see Luke standing there, shoulders rounded, head hanging, hopefully feeling at least a fraction of the pain he’s caused me.

  But I doubt it.

  14

  Karen

  Water rinses the froth of shampoo down my body, circling the drain at my feet. I can finally rake my fingers through my wet tresses without snagging them on any frosting residue or tiny, mashed up clumps of cake.

  Sighing, I shake my head and try to let the embarrassment of the evening wash away with everything else. I’ve spent enough time agonizing about everyone watching a cake smash down on my face. I’ve spent more years of my life than I’d like to admit worrying about the stupid scenes the men in my family have a history of making. And I’ve spent four years trying to get over a guy that it took all of three seconds to get twisted back into a human pretzel over.

  Deep breaths. I fill my lungs and sigh out years of anxieties in the steam of the shower. What was it my stern guidance counselor with the pinched rosebud lips told me at NYU? I picture her permanently pained expression. The look on her face always made me wonder if she had always just gotten a phone call saying she needed to bail her kid out of the drunk tank. Of course, she was a professional therapist working at New York University, not some kind of backwoods bumpkin from Oregon like me. That look on her face probably had less to do with a delinquent youth and more to do with not eating enough fiber.

  “Let go of the baggage. Leave it in the past. And don’t pack any new bags for future trips you might not even take,” Ms. Hallenstein’s voice echoes down the hallway of my mind. “Just root yourself, push your feet down into the floor right here, and be mindful of the present.”

  I open my eyes and stare down at my bare feet, my toes being splashed by warm water. This is my present. Luke and my family’s reputation are my past. My future might hold the most amazing interior design job opportunity I can imagine. My heart races as I remember how I practically floated out of the office, out into the bustling city street. I’ve never felt so sure that I nailed an interview in my life. Not that I’ve had a ton of them.

  Still, if I could begin my career as an assistant to someone as prolific and amazing in the interior design world as Joyce Drake, even if I work my way up from gophering her lattes and lunch orders, I can’t even imagine where the limit to my career will end. The sky is definitely not high enough.

  Nope, I’m not doing that. I can’t pack luggage for trips I might not take, remember? Stay in the present. The present. Well, presently I no longer have cake in my hair. Always a bonus. And, I’ve got to admit, after spending so much time in the dorms, it’s really nice to be able to take a shower where the hot water doesn’t conk out on me after six minutes. Also, it almost feels like a luxury that I can stand in the tub in my bare feet. After so many years of needing to wear flip-flops in the public showers, it feels wrong not to have them on.

  “Where’s your thongs?” My first roommate, Hattie, stared down at my feet incredulously as I walked across the tile floor.

  “My what?” I blushed fiercely, looking down at the towel I had tightly wrapped around my bra and underwear set. I didn’t even own thong underwear, but I was convinced she was asking me about them.

  “For your feet? You’re gonna get some nasty-ass athlete’s foot walking around like that.” She crinkled her broad nose in disgust.

  I looked at the flip-flops on her feet and nodded, finally understanding. She was right, of course. In fact, if it wasn’t for Hattie giving me all her tips and tricks those first couple months of college, I’m not sure I would’ve survived until my graduation. In so many ways, I felt about as subtle as a scarecrow ripped straight out of a corn field walking around those hectic, churning city blocks. To say I was out of my element is an understatement.

  And now that I’m back home, I miss the noise. The endless hum of the hive that is New York.

  I turn off the water and twist my hair into a rope, squeezing out the excess water before grabbing a plush towel to dry off with. I pat the fluffy yellow cotton over my skin and wrap my robe around me like a soft hug. Streaking my hand over the dewy mirror, I stare at my face. Luke’s not the only one who’s changed over the years. I’m not the little, nervous girl who left this town. I’m my own woman now. And it’s about time I started living like it.

  I might not be back in Pine Grove for long, so I’m going to make the most of it while I’m here.

  Gathering my things, I quickly make my way to the old bedroom I shared with my sister for many years. It doesn’t take long before I’m all cozied up in my flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Down the hall, I can hear my sister’s and mother’s voices floating up from the stairs. I let their lyrical voices guide me from my hideout and lead me to them. They’re both sitting down at the dining room table, nursing a couple mugs of tea and laughing. I plop down, still toweling off my long hair. I tuck my leg up against my body and hug it to me tight.

  “What’s so funny?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “No, nothing.” Mama giggles, the caked on foundation crinkling at the side of her eyes. Her mascara is like an explosion of soot underneath her heavily made-up eyes. Mom always did have a bit of a hero-worship thing happening for Tammy Faye Baker. I just never realized she’d grow to look so much like her.

  Rebecca snorts and has to spit her tea back into her cup.

  “If you’re laughing at me, I hope you choke.” I glare at her.

  “You should’ve … oh my God, you should’ve seen your face,” her voice squeals. “So much cake.” She laughs until tears form in the corners of her eyes and then she laughs some more. She can’t catch her breath. It reminds me of nights my friends would hotbox our dorm room and spend the night roaring with laughter over every little thing while they inhaled Doritos between gasps.

  “Waste of a good cake if you ask me.” Mama tries to keep a straight face, but it doesn’t last long. She cracks up too and holds up her tea mug, like I can’t see her Cheshire cat grin from behind it. “I’m sorry, it’s not nice to laugh.”

  “Nope, it’s not.” I shake my head, but I can’t help but smile too.

  “Oh, like you wouldn’t be busting a gut if I walked in here like that,” my sister scoffs.

  It’s true. I probably would’ve pulled out my phone and gotten some pictures. Lucky for me, these two only have their memories.

  “Where are the guys?” I try to change the subject. I half expect Mama to tell me they got carted off to jail. After watching the ruckus they caused tonight, I don’t think anyone would be surprised.

  “Where do ya think? At the pub.” Mom rolls her eyes.

  “As usual,” Rebecca adds. “At least when they get shit-faced tonight they’ve got the excuse of losing their jobs.”

  “Well, I don’t see what the big deal is really. Todd and your father have the metal scrap to earn money. It’s always been good enough for this family before.” Mom looks down into her cup and my sister and I exchange a look.

  We could easily share stories with our mother about how growing up behind walls of junk may have been
a good enough way to make money for this family, but our family has never been “good enough” for this town because of it.

  Instead, I focus back on the conversation at hand, “All of them?” I only saw two of my brothers, Todd and Joshua, along with my father at the fire station. Joshua wasn’t jumping anyone or punching any faces, but he was there. The one who was missing was Kirk.

  I’ve only seen him twice since I left for college. Both times were when I came home for Christmas break and both times were for less than an hour. Ever since the fire that ravaged our community and killed Luke’s father, Kirk just kind of dropped out of the town. He built himself a secluded cabin in the woods and decided to live alone, like a hermit, no matter how much begging and pleading my family did with him. As far as I know, Kirk still lives in his little log cabin with his dog Buck, with no phone, only a radio for emergencies.

  “Not Kirk.” Mama’s lips fall into a flat, red line, like a heart monitor for a patient that didn’t make it.

  “Oh.”

  For a moment we all stare at the middle of the table, each of us lost in thoughts about my estranged brother. I sniff and try to think of how to change the subject. “So, I, uh, saw Luke down there.” I try to sound cool or distant. Like my heart’s not about to beat out of my chest just from saying his name.

  “Really?” Mama snaps out of her daze and looks over at me with interest. The truth is, she always hoped Luke and I would work things out somehow. Even so many years later, I know she still wants that for me.

  “Really?” Rebecca’s tone is harsh. Her eyebrow arches so high I think it’s trying to climb off her face.

  “Really,” I repeat the word softly.

  “And how’s he doing?” Mom’s face lights up and her voice lilts like she’s singing a song.