HF02 - Forever After

by Deborah Raney

  “Whew. That’s good to know.”

  He liked this Jenna much better than the one he’d picked up four hours ago. When he pulled up in front of Bryn Hennesey’s apartment half an hour later, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to ask her out again.

  She answered as if she’d expected the invitation all along. “I’d love to.”

  “What does Friday night look like?”

  “Well … it depends on if I have a job by then. But if not, Friday sounds great. Can I let you know?”

  “Sure.”

  She scooped up her purse from the floor of the cab and opened the passenger-side door. “Thanks for a fun evening.”

  He opened his own door and started to climb out of the truck.

  “You don’t need to walk me to the door. I’ve got a key.” She reached in to her purse and produced a keychain. “Ta-dah! I’ll be fine.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was pandering to his handicap, or if she was afraid he was trying to invite himself in. He hated this part of dating. Of relationships, period. Why couldn’t people just say what they were thinking?

  “Seriously, I’m fine,” she said again.

  He wasn’t going to argue with her. “Okay. I’ll wait till I see the light go on.” He glanced out the windshield to the darkened windows of Bryn’s apartment.

  “Thanks.” She climbed down from the seat. “Well, … See you later.” She gave a little wave and flashed a smile that made him forget every one of his reservations about dating her.

  That is, until she’d disappeared into the apartment and he was driving home on the darkened streets of the Falls.

  Was he crazy? He had nothing to offer a woman. Dating led—eventually, hopefully—to marriage. He didn’t know what Jenna’s dreams for her life were, but they surely included marriage and a family. It wasn’t fair for him to waste her time with someone who had no future.

  He corrected his thoughts. Of course he had a future. He wouldn’t allow himself to get sucked into negative thoughts—thoughts that had led him down a very dark path in those early days after the fire. But he had to be honest with himself and with Jenna. He couldn’t support a wife—let alone children—on his disability check and what little savings he’d managed to accumulate while living at home.

  He scoffed at the thought. What woman wanted a man who lived with his mother? Of course that would change in a couple of months when Ma married Geoff, but still …

  And if all of that wasn’t enough, Jenna was Zach’s wife. There would always be that.

  What had she been thinking?

  Jenna let herself into Bryn’s apartment and went to the window to watch Lucas drive away. Obviously she hadn’t been thinking when she agreed to go out with him again. It was all wrong. She was practically homeless, sponging off a friend, at odds with her in-laws. The fact she had in-laws should have been enough of a red flag.

  Lucas made it no secret that he disapproved of the rift between her and Zach’s parents. Given her reasons, she had no regrets about her decision. It bothered her that Lucas didn’t seem to get why she’d put her foot down with the Morgans.

  But she couldn’t help taking his opinion to heart, even if he was wrong. She determined to be more positive when she was around him, because she liked him. A lot.

  If she was honest with herself, what she was beginning to feel for Lucas was stronger than anything she’d ever felt for Zach—at least after they were married. If she thought hard enough, she could remember the misguided teenage passion that made her think she was in love with Zachary Morgan—the same delusion that led to her getting pregnant. And married.

  Cut it out, Morgan! Hadn’t she just told herself this couldn’t go on? She didn’t even know if she’d be living in the Falls a few months from now. If she was lucky, she’d get the job at Hanson’s, then be scheduled to work Friday night. At least then she’d have a decent excuse to tell Lucas no.

  But she didn’t want to tell him no. Like Bryn, Lucas seemed to like her for who she was. He didn’t withhold affection until she fit an image he’d created for her.

  She stopped herself. That wasn’t fair to Zach. Zach had loved her. Even Lucas said so. But Zach had loved the Pygmalion version of her—the one his mother had fashioned. Clarissa had played Henry Higgins to her Eliza Doolittle. She’d been startlingly good at it, too.

  But it was the blue-blood Morgan version of Jenna that Zach had loved. She’d been pretending for as long as she could remember. She’d never let Zach see the real her—the Jenna Whitmore from Shady Acres trailer park.

  But she wasn’t that person anymore either. So … who was she?

  She closed the curtains and went to get ready for bed. Washing her face at the sink in the hall bath, she stared at her reflection. Who was she anyway? Too often when she looked in the mirror, she saw Clarissa Morgan—or a younger clone of Clarissa—staring back. It was frightening not to know who you really were. What mattered to you.

  She scrubbed hard at her forehead, suds fogging her view. She’d always hated that term finding yourself. It seemed like a devious way to focus on yourself at the expense of people you loved. But how could she expect anyone else to know her if she didn’t even know who she was?

  She hadn’t been any more honest with Lucas than she had with Zach all those years ago. So how could she possibly think Lucas liked her for who she was?

  She dried her face and went through the apartment turning out lights and checking the locks.

  She went back to the guest room and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She remembered she’d turned off her cell phone in the restaurant and went to get her purse to check her messages.

  What would she do if she couldn’t pay her cell phone bill next month? She couldn’t find a job, let alone keep one, if an employer had no way to reach her. She pushed the nagging thoughts away. She’d go nuts if she thought too far into the future.

  She started to flip her phone open, then heard Bryn come in and went out to greet her. One look at her friend told her something was very wrong. “Is it your dad?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  Bryn nodded and tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Jen, he’s not doing well at all. They’re going to run some more tests tomorrow, but they still can’t get his blood pressure down.”

  “I’m so sorry, Bryn.”

  “I may stay at the hospital tomorrow night.” She tossed her keys on the kitchen counter. “I’m beat. I’m going to do a load of laundry and go to bed.”

  “You just go to bed. I’ll take care of the laundry. I’ve got a couple more things I want to throw in the washer anyway.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful. I’m so glad you’re here, Jen.”

  Poor Bryn. She’d had some tough breaks. It puzzled Jenna how her friend had come through it all with her faith intact. You’d think God could give her a break after all she’d been through.

  Jenna started the laundry and went back to her room and flopped on the bed again. She checked her phone and discovered a voice mail waiting. “Hanson’s Grocers” appeared on the screen, and her heart kicked up a notch. She clicked Play. “This is Hal Iverson at Hanson’s calling for Jenna Morgan. We’d like you to come in tomorrow morning at eight for training. If that time doesn’t suit, please give us a call. Otherwise we’ll expect you.”

  She sat up on the bed, feeling a little stunned. She had a job. Wow. She wasn’t sure how to even feel about it. It wasn’t as if there had been forty applicants for this position, but still she must have done okay with the interview.

  What would she wear? She seemed to recall that the checkers at Hanson’s wore smocks, but she hadn’t noticed what they wore underneath. Street clothes?

  She went to the closet where her clothes were crammed together at one end of the narrow space. She chose a pair of khaki pants and a sweater. Remembering how much the sweater had cost, she replaced it and chose a less expensive polo. If she could get back every dollar she’d spent on the clothes in this closet—never
mind what was still in storage at the Morgans’—she’d have enough to pay a month’s rent.

  An idea started to germinate in the back of her mind, but she didn’t have time to entertain it fully. She had a job. As of tomorrow morning she would be gainfully employed. A working woman. The thought brought a smile. And with it, a tiny glimmer of hope.

  She heard the phone ringing out in the kitchen and ran to answer it before it woke Bryn. But she heard Bryn’s low murmurs in the other room and assumed she was talking to Garrett.

  She went back to the guest room, but a minute later there was a light rap on the door.

  “Jenna, are you awake?”

  “I’m up. Come on in.”

  The door opened and Bryn appeared, eyes wide, the cordless phone dangling in one hand.

  Jen sat up on the bed, her pulse quickening as she thought of Bryn’s father. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

  Bryn gulped and shook her head. “It’s Susan. There was a fire at the shelter tonight. They think it was arson.”

  “The shelter burned down?” Surely this nightmare couldn’t be happening all over again.

  21

  Fire? What do you mean?” Jenna jumped off the bed.

  Bryn stared at the phone in her hand. “Everybody got out, but they’re trying to get the residents into churches for the night.”

  “The shelter burned down?” Surely this nightmare couldn’t be happening all over again.

  “No … No, Susan said they were able to put the fire out before it got out of control. But there’s a lot of smoke damage. She said the fire trucks just left.”

  “What happened?”

  Bryn shook her head. “She said somebody set the fire.”

  “How do they know that?”

  “I don’t know.” She slumped into the chair at the desk. “Do you think she called me because … to see if I was home?”

  Jenna stared at her, not sure what she meant, why she was so upset.

  “Oh, Jen … do they think I did it?”

  “Bryn, no! Of course not! Why would you even think that? Susan didn’t say that, did she?”

  Bryn drew her legs up onto the chair, curling into herself. She hid her face in her hands.

  This had to be bringing back horrid memories. Jenna hurried to envelope her in a hug. “Bryn, stop it. No one would even dream you had anything to do with this.” She looked around the room. “Where’s the phone? I’ll call Susan. We’ll find out what happened.”

  Bryn didn’t respond and Jenna spotted the cordless on the end of the bed. She hit the Callback button and waited, patting the curve of Bryn’s back with one hand.

  “Susan Marlowe.” Her voice sounded clipped.

  “Susan, this is Jenna Morgan. Bryn said there’s been a fire at the shelter?”

  “Can I call you back, Jenna? Things are crazy here right now. We’re trying to find places for the residents to stay tonight, and if I—”

  “Bryn isn’t a suspect, is she? In the fire?”

  “Why on earth would you think that?”

  “I don’t …” Jenna slipped into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “For some reason she thought you’d called to see if she had an alibi.”

  “Oh, dear Lord. I don’t know what I could have said to make her think that. That’s not it at all. We don’t know how it started. I just didn’t want her to hear about it on the news.”

  The tension drained from Jenna’s shoulders. “Everyone’s okay then?”

  “Yes. Our count was way down … and no children here tonight, thank goodness. But the smoke damage is extensive. We can’t let anyone stay here until we get the mess cleaned up.”

  “And you don’t know what happened?”

  “No. The fire investigators are searching the place now. They seem pretty certain it was set—like the other—but they haven’t really told me anything else. We’ve got all we can do to get everybody relocated. So far only one church is willing to house these people on a Friday night. I really need to go, Jenna.”

  “Of course. Is there anything Bryn and I can do to help?”

  “Some extra bodies here would be wonderful. Believe me, I can find something for you to do.”

  “We’ll be right there.”

  The shelter was in chaos when they arrived. Jenna and a much-relieved Bryn pitched in to help the residents pack their things and vacate the building. An acrid odor hung in the air and made her cough and cover her nose.

  The Presbyterian pastor and his wife had already picked up the four female shelter residents and taken them to the church for the night, but Susan hadn’t yet found anyone to take in the men. “Tony X and Bobby took off—probably for the bar, which is bad news waiting to happen. Especially since the police want to talk to them about the fire.”

  “They’re two of the younger guys,” Bryn explained to Jenna.

  “Are they suspects?” Jenna asked.

  “Just about all the residents are suspects right now.” Susan sighed. “But I can’t worry about that right now. Even with those two gone, that still leaves nine men we need to put up.”

  “I don’t know who you’ve already talked to, but I could make some calls for you.” Jenna felt helpless.

  “I’ve called all the churches and half a dozen members that pastors thought might be willing to put people up in their homes, but so far, except for Pastor Bryant, either they’re not home or they said no. None of the Springfield shelters have vacancies.” She grabbed a dog-eared phone book off the desk behind her. “Would you want to contact the hotels? There’s no guarantee we can pay them a dime, but maybe we can get them to donate the rooms. Or get the churches to pay for them”—she rolled her eyes—“and give them a chance to assuage their guilt.”

  Jenna didn’t blame her for being frustrated. What were churches for, anyway, if they couldn’t pitch in during an emergency like this? But since the shelter had burned—the first time—the town had soured on the idea of having a homeless shelter in Hanover Falls. Most of the shelter’s individual volunteers still came from the community’s churches, but the churches themselves were hesitant to attach their names to the shelter.

  Jenna took the phone book to a table in the corner and used her own cell phone to make the calls. She got turned down at the first hotel she called, but the small motel on the outskirts of town was willing to put up a few people.

  She wondered if Lucas had heard about the fire. She looked at her watch. It was just after ten. He was probably still up.

  He answered on the second ring, and she explained what was going on.

  “I’m on my way,” he said.

  Not ten minutes later he appeared in the doorway, Sparky in tow. “How’s it going?” he said softly, coming around to where she was sitting with the phone.

  Her heart stuttered the way it always did in Lucas’s presence. It was good to have him here. “We’re still trying to find places for all the residents.”

  He looked around the room that housed the shelter’s office and volunteer lounge, as if trying to determine the damage. Everything looked normal, but a heavy odor of smoke hung in the air. “Has the inspector been here?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I think she’s still out there.” She motioned to Lucas. “Follow me. I’ll show you where the fire started.”

  Lucas held Sparky’s leash loosely and went around to the back of the building. A couple dozen people huddled at the fringes of the site—harried city officials, curious neighbors wearing heavy coats over their pajamas, and a few others who, Lucas assumed from their stunned faces, were displaced shelter residents.

  He spotted Andrea Morley, the fire inspector, talking with a Hanover Falls police officer. He waited until they were finished and went over to talk to her.

  “Hey, Vermontez. Are you stalking me?”

  He grinned. “No, it just looks that way.”

  She looked pointedly at his cane. “What are you doing out here? I thought you weren’t b
ack to work yet.”

  “I’m not.” He motioned toward the back of the building. “Have you found anything yet?” Sparky tugged at the leash, barking.

  She shook her head, then bent to scratch the dog’s head. “Who’s this?”

  Lucas introduced her to Sparky and explained about the training program in Tulsa.

  Andi smiled. “I’d say it sounded great if I wasn’t afraid this pooch would put me out of a job.”

  He laughed. “I think you’re safe.” He wanted to ask her if she’d ever worked with arson dogs, but this wasn’t the time.

  “This is the dog you’re training?”

  He nodded and didn’t correct her present tense reference. It was probably premature to be talking about this, yet it felt good to have a plan. Something with purpose, something connected to firefighting. He just hoped he didn’t have to admit later that he didn’t make the cut for the training.

  Sparky barked and tugged at the leash, straining toward the place where the fire had started. The milling crowd turned toward the commotion. A woman in a hooded sweatshirt wore an expression of fear that reminded Lucas of Jenna. He spoke to Sparky firmly and made a show of holding the leash tighter. He gave the woman a look he hoped was reassuring, but she turned away quickly, retreating with the other onlookers as police officers cordoned the area with yellow barrier tape.

  Lucas was curious how Sparky would perform in the field, but letting him loose now would contaminate the scene. Sparky had yet to learn the discipline of waiting for Lucas’s commands. Still, he couldn’t help daydreaming about someday being able to bring Sparky to the scene of a fire and turn him lose.

  And tonight was good training for the dog to experience the sights and sounds of a fire scene. Things were pretty calm here now. … It would be a whole different test with fire engines on the premises and sirens blaring. But Sparky wasn’t too skittish, and he was obviously dying to get his nose into the action.

  “You don’t know what started the fire?”

  “Oh, it was set,” Andi said. “No doubt about that. Gasoline. Too soon to say much more, but we can hope it was just some kids messing around.” She shook her head. “But this is the second time …”