Beloved Healer

by Bonnie Dee

  Mason’s open smile and clear eyes went a long way toward convincing her that he was exactly what he seemed to be, a nice, if directionless, guy. Not a serial killer.

  Just as Ava was beginning to tire of spinning around, the merry-go-round slowed and stopped. They climbed off their horses and jumped down to the ring of scuffed dirt that encircled the ride. Ramshackle fencing guided them to the exit where Mason took her hand again.

  The warmth and strength of his fingers wrapped around her hand sent a small tremor through her. A good shiver that made her slow down and walk closer. Their steps quickly synched so they walked in perfect harmony.

  “What next?” Mason asked. “Are you up for something a little rougher like the Scrambler or Tilt-o-Whirl? I’ll hold you all the way through it if that helps.”

  Him holding her sounded very good. She didn’t care so much about the ride part. “Actually, I’m getting a little hungry. Do you think it’s safe to try cart food?”

  “Corn dogs and cotton candy at a fair? How can I refuse?”

  They settled on pulled pork sandwiches and a shared elephant ear. Once she got the food in her hands, Ava realized she wasn’t hungry after all. Excitement stole her appetite. But Mason easily polished off half of her sandwich as well as his own and most of the pastry.

  Ava was wiping the last of the sugar and grease off her fingers with a napkin when a familiar figure caught her eye.

  “There’s Bryan again. We should check in with him.”

  She started toward her brother sitting on a bench. As she and Mason got closer to him, she realized he was exhausted and maybe close to tears. Probably his leg muscles were spasming and needed a good massage and a rest.

  “Hey, Bry.” She sat beside him, avoiding a sticky-looking spot on the bench. “Getting tired? We can go home now if you want.”

  His jaw was clenched tight as a fist as he shrugged.

  “Are your hips hurting? I can bring the car right up to the gate so you don’t have to walk so far,” Ava offered.

  Her little brother shook his head, misery clouding his eyes. “No. I can walk. That’s not it.”

  Mason crouched in front of Bryan and looked up into his face. “We’ve got a bunch of tickets we haven’t used yet. Want to go on a couple of rides before we leave? There’s not much of a line for that one.” He indicated the nearby Himalayan. “And no big drops to scare your sister,” he teased.

  Bryan glanced at the cars swooping up and down little hills in a circle. “I guess so.”

  Annoyance flashed through Ava. Clearly Bryan was worn out and needed to rest. Mason had no business encouraging him to keep on going. “We don’t have to stay if you’ve had enough.”

  Bryan braced his crutches and pulled himself to his feet. “No. I want to.”

  Ava was tempted to talk to the operator and move Bryan to the front of the line. But she knew how he felt about receiving special treatment, so she bit her tongue and joined the queue. The late afternoon sun beat down. She was hot, sweaty, and tired of the loud music blaring from every ride on the midway and the thick scent of burnt sugar in the air. As much as she’d enjoyed spending time with Mason, she’d had enough of the fair.

  But then something amazing happened that blew apart her irritation. Bryan started laughing. Mason leaned to say something to him that made her little brother crack up. He sounded more joyful than he had in weeks. He sounded like a happy kid again.

  “What?” she asked, moving closer. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. A dumb joke. A guy thing.” Mason winked at her, and she understood he was just bonding with her brother.

  She dropped back a pace and watched as Mason got Bryan talking and laughing harder. By the time it was their turn to board the ride, Bryan seemed completely energized and animated. A miracle. Such a rush of gratitude filled her that her chest ached.

  Mason and Ava flanked Bryan, ready to support him if he needed it, as he awkwardly climbed into the car. Mason took his crutches and left them with the ride operator.

  Ava started to slide onto the seat beside Bryan, but he waved her off. “I’m okay alone. Go ride with your friend.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” Bryan nodded, then added, “He’s a pretty cool guy.”

  “I think so too.” Ava smiled as she went to join Mason in the next car. He fastened the seat belt around them both and pulled down the safety bar. Her leg pressed against his from the hip down. The rough denim of his jeans tickled her bare calf and part of her thigh. Her leg tingled, and the feeling of anticipation growing in her had little to do with the ride starting.

  The car glided forward, up a hill and down a hill to the blare of “Old Time Rock and Roll.” Her stomach hardly lurched. Then the speed ramped up and the peaks and valleys came faster. Ava gasped as her stomach dropped. Gravity played with her, and she didn’t much enjoy the game. She clung to the safety bar with both hands.

  Mason yelled, “Stop trying to control it. Go ahead and scream.”

  After she’d stopped gritting her teeth and bracing herself for each drop, Ava began to feel the rhythm of the rises and falls. She let herself slide into Mason instead of trying to keep distance between them. And the next time her stomach dropped, she let out a loud whoop.

  Ava closed her eyes as the breeze whipped strands of hair into her eyes, and in the darkness, a tremendous release seized her. This was what flying must be like. Freedom. No responsibilities. No bills to pay or shifts to cover. No brother or mother to look after.

  The warmth of Mason’s body slammed into hers as gravity drove them close. His arm wrapped around her, pressing her against his solid frame, and Ava thought she could happily stay on this ride forever.

  All too soon the forward momentum slowed, then stopped. Ava opened her eyes to a mural of snowcapped mountains on the back wall. Then she looked at Mason.

  He smiled at her, that understanding secretive smile that had first caught her attention and made her realize he was anything but average. Ava’s heart gave a little skip and a drop, and she realized her ride wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

  Chapter Six

  After the fair, Mason told Ava not to drop him off at his place. He’d run some errands in town, then walk back to the motel. It seemed pretty much everything was within walking distance in Waller. So their good-night kiss took place in front of Ava’s house after Bryan had gone inside. It was a sweet cliché, seeing a woman—and her brother—home after a date, then standing on the porch stealing a good-night kiss while cicadas serenaded them and fireflies lit up the shadows beneath the trees.

  Although, Mason didn’t have to do any stealing. Ava seemed happy to give him her lips. And her arms, and the soft press of her body against his.

  Too long without that kind of stimulation, his senses went into overdrive. His cock grew ramrod stiff and his body quivered with the need for more than mere kissing. He craved her touch and hoped she’d invite him inside.

  But after a few delirious moments, Ava pulled away. “See you tomorrow. Thanks for going with us today. I had a great time. And thanks for what you did for Bryan.”

  Mason shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. What do you mean?”

  “You talked to him, and that’s exactly what he needed. Between that and the rides we went on, he really cheered up. These days I can’t say or do anything right where he’s concerned. If I’d had my way, we would’ve gone home right away. You made it so Bryan would remember a good time at the fair instead of a miserable one.”

  “He’s a great kid. Real polite too, not like some who are so wrapped up in their cell phones they won’t talk to the person standing right in front of them. Anyway, I’m the one who should be thanking you for taking me along. I had a really good time too.” He put a little suggestion into the words and offered a smile that asked for more.

  But Ava still wasn’t inviting him inside, so he started down the steps. Then he took an impulsive stride back up, pulled her into his arms, and gave her a lo
ng, deep kiss to remember him by. Both her body and her mouth were warm and giving, and holding her made Mason feel better than he had in a long time. Hot and horny, sure, but also relaxed and peaceful somehow, as if he all the knots in his psyche loosened or smoothed out. Making out in the House of Horrors had been great, but it was that final kiss that lingered on Mason’s mouth and in his mind long after he’d walked away.

  In fact, the next day at work he could still feel his lips tingling when he relived the moment and his body vibrated with excitement at the prospect of seeing Ava. Jumpy and agitated, he perked up like a dog welcoming its master home when she entered the café for her shift. Mason was in the middle of mopping the kitchen floor, so he didn’t have a chance to talk to her. But the smile she bestowed on him as she passed by was enough. Later, when they got a private moment, they could share more than a smile.

  “You gonna stand there all day?” Nash demanded brusquely. “Floors ain’t gonna clean themselves.”

  Mason began mopping again. An early morning spill had left the kitchen floor greasy, dangerous for rushing feet. Since he had the bucket out, he decided to give the johns a quick swab too. He was just coming out of the ladies’ room when he met Fran heading toward the alley for her midmorning cigarette break.

  “Have a nice time at the fair?” she asked with a smirk that suggested Ava might have told her a few things.

  “Yeah.” Mason steered the wheeled bucket ahead of him, concentrating on not sloshing and avoiding making eye contact with Fran. She might be Ava’s friend, but she rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was because he’d met too many people like her, a little too abrasive and domineering. In the short time he’d been here, he’d overheard her hammering Ava with her opinions too often. That bugged him. Ava might be quiet and laid-back, but she knew her own mind. She didn’t need Fran telling her how to live her life.

  Fran didn’t take his short answer as a hint and kept walking along with him. “Listen, I don’t know you. Maybe you’re a nice guy. Whatever. But I do know Ava. She’s dealing with enough crap in her life without having some guy hurt her. So if you’re going to have a fling, then move on, that’s fine, but you make damn sure she understands that’s all it is. She’s too good for…” Fran trailed off. “Anyway, just you be careful with her.”

  Mason nodded. He didn’t owe this woman any explanation, and it sure as hell wasn’t her business to go behind Ava’s back to advise him about her. Still, she had her friend’s best interests at heart, and he couldn’t really fault her for that.

  Fran left him to empty the wash water and headed into the alley, shaking a cigarette out of her pack. He breathed a sigh of relief. Entanglements and emotions; two things he’d meant to avoid during his little vacation from the world, but that was the nature of human beings. Unless he wanted to go completely off-grid and live in some mountain shack, he’d continue to find himself drawn into people’s lives one way or another.

  After emptying the mop water, Mason went to the kitchen to see what Nash had planned for him the rest of the morning.

  “Chop more onions and green peppers,” the cook ordered, gesturing with his spatula at the cutting board.

  “You know they have a great new invention called a food processor. They can mince a buttload of vegetables or fruit or anything you want with a couple of taps of a button.”

  “Funny guy. Get choppin’.”

  Nash turned back to the stove, while Mason pulled out the heavy wood cutting board and reached for an onion. He’d just peeled off the outer layers and laid the onion on the board when there was a flash of light and a yell from Nash. Mason spun around to see flames flaring up from a pot of oil on the stove. Nash was beating his hands against his chest and belly, trying to put out the fire on his grease-spattered undershirt.

  “Fuck!” Mason couldn’t see an extinguisher, so he grabbed a couple of dish towels and a box of baking soda and ran toward Nash. He flung soda onto the blazing shirt and continued smothering it with the towels. When he was sure the flames were out, Mason emptied the rest of the box of soda over the blaze on the stove. He covered the burning pot of oil with a nearby baking sheet rather than search for its lid, and beat out any other escaped flames with a pot holder.

  Smoke had set off the alarm in the ceiling. It emitted ear-splitting squeals to drive the customers from the restaurant. The fire on the stove appeared to be out, so Mason returned to Nash. He pulled back the dishtowels and singed undershirt. “You all right?”

  Nash groaned as a layer of skin peeled along with the material. His chest and stomach were burned. His hairy forearms were singed bare, and his palms were red and blistered from slapping at the flames.

  Mason poised on the edge of a razor. The cook’s injuries weren’t life threatening and might not even put him in the burn unit. A quick trip to the emergency room and some medicated ointment and antibiotics would heal him.

  But Mason made the mistake of looking into Nash’s face. The tough ex-Navy vet’s eyes glittered, and he gritted his teeth. Pain radiated from him in waves strong enough to hook onto the power inside Mason and draw on it like a snagged marlin. It rose from the depths, inexorably reeled in by Nash’s need.

  “Christ,” Mason muttered and smoothed his hands over Nash’s burns. He let down the shield and allowed the energy that came roiling up through him.

  “What…?” Nash gasped.

  “Uh, I don’t think it’s all that bad.” Mason took his hands away and smooth, unblemished skin covered Nash’s chest and bulging stomach, hairless as a baby’s, but not scorched. “Looks like… Yeah, I think you got lucky. Your shirt caught most of the flak. That’s one undershirt you’re not going to be able to salvage, my friend.”

  Mason grasped Nash’s hand briefly, and when he let go, the redness and rising blisters were gone. A wave of dizziness swept through him. He needed to sit. It seemed even a little healing zapped his strength more quickly than it used to. Maybe the juice was running out, and maybe his time was running out along with it.

  Mason braced a hand against the counter to hold himself steady.

  “Oh, my God, Nash. Are you all right?” Ava shouted over the fire alarm’s frantic bleating as she hurried past Mason to examine the cook’s injuries.

  Mason shook off his light-headedness and went to the stove to make sure the grease fire was really out. A glance under the baking sheet revealed nasty-smelling black oil but no more flames.

  “I saw your shirt on fire, but you’re not burned at all. How is this possible?” Ava said.

  “I don’t know,” Nash mumbled.

  “We should clear out of here until after the fire department comes. The flames could flare up again,” Mason interrupted to distract them from Nash’s miraculously healing skin. “Come on.”

  He ushered Nash and Ava before him, out of the kitchen and through the front door. Customers milled around on the pavement in front of the diner. Fran was on her cell phone, talking loudly, maybe telling Deb that her restaurant had caught fire.

  “I called 911,” one of the customers volunteered. “Fire crew from Brag’s Hollow is on its way.”

  “That’ll take half an hour! We need a unit of our own,” someone else said. “Steve Anderson’s shed burned to the ground last month because there’s no one closer to call.”

  “The fire’s out,” Mason informed them. “If you left any of your things inside, it’s probably safe to collect them before you leave.”

  “Don’t worry about your bill. Breakfast is on us,” Ava said. “And sorry about the scare.”

  The regulars seemed in no hurry to clear out. They stood and chatted long enough to witness the arrival of the fire truck. As the men in uniform checked out the building, people continued to gawk and postpone starting their day. During the wait, Nash recounted several times how the grease fire had started and Mason had come to his rescue. Mason downplayed his role, swearing Nash hadn’t been on the verge of being incinerated. But the charred rag of an undershirt which the cook held on t
o suggested a different story.

  Ava helped fan curiosity with her insistence about what she’d witnessed. “I was behind the counter and saw Nash through the delivery window. He was clearly burning, but look at him. Not a mark. It’s weird.”

  “A miracle,” a woman with hair as big as the state of Kentucky said. “God was watching out for you, Mr. Pope. You need to get on your knees and thank Jesus.”

  “I’m thanking him in my heart,” Nash promised her. “But you know I’m not much of a churchgoer.”

  “Maybe you should start,” she answered dryly.

  Great. More talk of miracles. Mason had hoped he’d left that behind along with Doug Croyden’s revival show. He moved to the edge of the crowd and kept silent, hoping discussion of the cook’s lack of injuries wouldn’t point back to him. So far, Nash hadn’t mentioned anything about Mason laying hands on him. He’d been so shaken by the close call, with any luck he wouldn’t put two and two together.

  But Ava wasn’t as traumatized, and after a while, she sought out Mason and began to question him. “You were right beside Nash. Did you notice anything strange? I mean, his shirt was in flames, and he was beating at it with his hands. At the very least, he should have burns on his hands.”

  Mason shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger things. He must have smothered the fire soon enough.”

  “I guess. But it is weird, don’t you think?”

  Before he was forced to answer, the fire crew emerged from the diner to give the all clear, and the customers started to file back inside. At the same time, the Cozy Café’s owner arrived at last. Deb brought her pickup to a stop with a spray of gravel and jumped out of the vehicle.

  “Everyone okay? What’s the damage?” she demanded.

  “Nothing structural. Just some smoke damage.” The fireman who answered was middle-aged and overweight. Mason hoped the guy never had to climb a ladder to save someone from a building.

  “My kitchen is up to code. I just had the inspector in last month.” Deb spoke as if he’d challenged her. “And there are fire extinguishers.”