Fire at Dawn: The Firefighters of Darling Bay 2

by Lila Ashe

  “I just want you to see what he was like.”

  It was a good enough answer, for now at least. Lexie straightened her spine. “I’ll follow you.”

  He hiked the backpack up his shoulder and nodded toward the green hillock on their right. “Almost there.”

  The crypt Coin led them to was one of the biggest crypts in the cemetery. It was in the shape of a pyramid, at least twenty feet high at its uppermost point. A path to the sealed door cut through the grass, and Coin went up the two steps to sit on the stoop in front of it. “I call this his front porch.”

  Lexie shaded her eyes against the last rays of the setting sun. To the west, the ocean sparkled a dark blue agate and a thin line of fog at the horizon stood at the ready. Overhead, two seagulls argued in an in-flight squabble.

  She sat next to him. “The concrete is cold.” It was, bone-chillingly so. Or was that just because she knew what was behind her? Her stomach was still so tight it almost hurt.

  “I’m sorry, I meant to bring a blanket, but I forgot to put one in the truck.”

  “You usually bring a blanket on your dates? Is this something you do? Seduce women in the graveyard?” She kept her voice light.

  He brushed his hair back as he opened the backpack. “This is a first.”

  Strangely, Lexie felt relieved. She was the only one he’d brought here. That was okay, then.

  From the backpack, Coin pulled a bottle of red wine. “It’s Forget Me Not’s red zin from two years ago.”

  “Oh! Valentine’s winery.” Truck One’s tillerman owned a small vineyard just up the coast that was his off-hours baby. “I liked that one. He gave me a bottle for Christmas.”

  Coin took out two plastic wine glasses and screwed on the stems. “Classy, right?”

  “Mmm.” Lexie looked again at the view. From here she thought she could just see the top of her house, if she was guessing the right color roof. For some reason, she couldn’t picture her roof at all right now. She could picture Coin’s dark eyes without looking his direction at all. But the color of the roof she’d lived under since she bought her house five years ago? She didn’t have a clue.

  “Here,” he said. “Let’s toast.”

  Lexie bit her bottom lip. “All right. On your father’s grave, literally. What should we toast to?”

  “Obviously, to health.”

  Lexie nodded. “L’chaim.” She clinked her glass against his—really more like a plastic tap—and sipped. She kept her eyes on his, as one should do when toasting, and ignored the fact that her stomach went from knots to flips.

  He really did have the sexiest bedroom eyes.

  Which was an inappropriate line of thought to have while sitting on a tomb.

  While Coin took food out of the backpack, she scooted backward so she could sit cross-legged. She touched the concrete at her knee with one finger. She cast her mind for something—anything—that she could say that might distract them from the awareness of where they were, but Coin didn’t seem at all weirded out. He seemed relaxed, as if he hung out here all the time. And, heck, maybe he did.

  “When was the last time you were here?”

  Coin looked into the air as if calculating. “He died when I was twenty. I came back once with my mom before she died. So I guess it’s been thirteen years or more.”

  She gaped. “You don’t come here, either?”

  “No reason to. I hated the guy.”

  It didn’t make sense. If they both avoided the cemetery … “Why are we here?”

  “He was important to me.”

  “I thought you said …”

  “I said I hated him. That’s true. But he’s the reason I am who I am, and specifically, he’s why I’m the father I am.” Coin tore a piece of bread off the baguette and looked at it, as if he’d forgotten why he’d brought it.

  Maybe this time he would tell her about it. “Talk to me.”

  Coin took a deep breath. “He was a horrible guy. Really, there was nothing good about him. Check this out,” he said, gesturing at the crypt, his arms wide open. “Doesn’t this look like somewhere you’d like to spend eternity?”

  “Maybe,” said Lexie, trying to be charitable. “If I were Egyptian, or wanted … to stand out in California.”

  He snapped his fingers and then tapped the tip of his nose. “Bingo. He wanted to stand out. He always wanted the biggest. The best. He’d read about some actor who had a tomb built like this, something about it holding the life force inside, so he had this built when he could afford it. Of course, then he went and crashed his car, having left no life insurance for my mother. He had, however, bought half of this before he died, so they buried him, and then my mother went on paying for it for two years after he died. Charming, no?”

  “Where is she?”

  Coin laughed, but the tone of it was off. He wasn’t amused. “He didn’t want her near him. She had to buy her own plot, so she chose a spot next to her mother’s grave in Birmingham. But just imagine that. A man who didn’t want his own wife with him. Too stingy to make a place for her inside this behemoth. Wanted it all to himself.”

  “You’re the opposite of him.”

  Coin took a taste of wine and then help up the plastic cup. “I hope so. Anyway, that reminds me.” He took a smaller bottle out of the backpack. “Whiskey for the old man.” He uncapped it and poured it at the base. “One for the homie. Oh, never mind, just have all of it, Dad. You always did.” He paused. “You know, one time I made a list, thinking that if I listed all his bad qualities I might be able to remember a good one. I just wanted one. Know what I came up with?”

  Lexie shook her head.

  “He liked bacon. That was his best quality. Not that he cooked it well, or liked to make BLTs for the family. That would have been a good thing, and I couldn’t find one of those. I just know that he liked bacon. To eat.”

  It clicked. “That’s why you hate bacon.”

  “Yep.”

  “I just thought you were a bad person.”

  At that, Coin gave an unexpected hoot of laughter. “No. That’s not why. Though by the way everyone talks about it, you’d think that was the case. It’s just salted pork, people. Why is it such a big deal? I even hate the smell of it.”

  “I know.” It was why, when they were on Sunday shift, Coin usually spent the morning in dispatch if there wasn’t a call.

  Well. She’d thought it was because of the bacon …

  Shaking her head to clear it, she said, “So now tell me how he was bad.”

  “Oh, you know. The usual way. He wasn’t even an interesting kind of awful. He was a hitter. And a drinker. He liked to get loaded on cheap whiskey and knock my mom around.”

  Lexie winced.

  “When I got tall enough to be in his way, he knocked me around the same way. I thought he was normal, though. I thought that dads hit and moms cried, and that was why I was never going to fall in love and have children, because I never wanted anyone to feel as scared as I did, listening to him whale on my mother.”

  “Oh, Coin.”

  He shrugged. “It was what I knew. Then I met Janice, and we got pregnant on accident. I thought my life was over, and I could just see myself going down that road. I think that’s what pushed me and Janice apart—my fear that I would turn into him.”

  “That or the fact that she slept with the mailman.”

  He laughed again. “I still can’t believe that. That she actually left me for Tom the mailman. But at least that was after we had Serena. When I saw my baby girl for the first time, I knew. I just knew I wouldn’t be my father.”

  Lexie scooted an inch closer so that their knees were almost touching. More scarlet rays streaked across the darkening sky behind him. “How did you know?”

  “Because I knew that no matter what, when my mother gave birth to me, he would never have held me the same way I held my baby daughter.”

  “How did you know? Did your mother tell you that?”

  “I could feel it. If
I’d ever been held by my dad like that, things would have been different. He wasn’t supposed to be a father. I’m glad he was, naturally, because that means I’m here, drinking wine next to his old dead bones with the prettiest girl in the state. And I was. Meant to be a father, I mean. I knew that as soon as I got my arms around her.”

  Lexie set down her wine. She took his wine glass away and set it down.

  “Hey, what—?”

  “Hush,” she said. “Just for a minute. I want to try something.”

  Then Lexie leaned forward and put her lips against his.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Lexie told herself was really only a test to see if he still tasted as good as he had in his kitchen. It was a test to see if they would feel the same heat.

  It wasn’t the same. It was even hotter.

  Coin initially seemed surprised, but it took him only a second to rev it up to superheated, like she’d poured lighter fluid on a banked fire. He was with her, in the kiss, driving it. Twisting his body but not taking his mouth from hers, he pulled her into his lap so she lay across him. He smiled against her mouth and then nipped her bottom lip, eliciting a small gasp.

  Lexie pulled back, suddenly worried. “Am I hurting you?”

  “You? You’re perfect. Right where you are.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Your body is perfect, Lex.” He kissed her again, and for the first time in her adult life, Lexie didn’t worry about her weight during a kiss. She didn’t wonder if he could detect a roll at the top of her jeans, and she didn’t worry whether her thighs were too wide. He’d pulled her into his lap like she didn’t weigh an ounce, and she could feel the strength in his arms as they wrapped around her.

  His mouth was hot, his tongue slick. She panted against him, and he gasped as she deepened the kiss. When she moved against him, she could feel his hardness, and a fevered thrill shot through her.

  Lexie wanted more.

  “Coin,” she said against his mouth.

  “Mmm?” He licked her top lip, sending another shiver down her spine.

  “We’re making out on your father’s grave.”

  “Screw him.”

  “That’s gross. And he’s not the Keefe I want.”

  Coin pulled back. “I swear this wasn’t the plan. We were just going to have a picnic, with wine and cheese and those double-stuffed Oreos you love.”

  “I started this,” she said, trailing her fingers across his jawline, down his neck, tucking them under the neckline of his shirt. She wanted to touch more of him. All of him. “I want more.”

  Coin’s dark eyes sparkled, even in the dark that was settling around them. “More of what?”

  “More of you. More kisses. More skin.” Lexie touched his belt buckle. “Less clothing.”

  “Where?”

  “My house.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Lexie considered for a moment. Did she want to take this man home? To her bed? It had been so long since she had a man stay the night that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d brewed more than one cup of coffee in the morning. She didn’t do this. She didn’t take random men home with her.

  But this wasn’t just some guy she’d met.

  It was Coin. Her best friend.

  A week ago, she would have thought that would make it weirder. But it didn’t.

  It made it better.

  “I’m sure. But before we go … Can we …?”

  “You never ask for anything. Name it.” His voice was rough. He meant it, she knew. He’d do anything for her.

  “Before we go can we look for my father’s grave?”

  “You bet.”

  It turned out her father wasn’t that far from Coin’s. He was just over a small rise in what must have been a cheaper section. There were no crypts there, just modest markers, none more than two feet high.

  “Here,” said Coin.

  Robert Tindall. It was clean, and well maintained. A bouquet of flowers stood at the foot of it, and a small American flag moved slowly in the autumn breeze.

  “Oh,” said Lexie. She had expected it would hurt to see it. That it would bring her to her knees. The reason she’d never gone to visit her father’s grave was because she didn’t want to cry again—ever—like she had when he died.

  She’d never expected it would make her happy.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She laughed and tasted tears on her tongue. “I’m actually fine.” She kneeled and touched the face of the stone. “Look. His name.” Under it was chiseled a fire service crest, and the words “Darling Bay Fire Department, Lost in Action, Always Remembered.”

  “And the flowers.” She touched the edge of a white rose and was surprised to notice her hand was shaking. “Look. They’re real. Coin, they’re fresh.”

  She turned to him. “Did you do this? Did you plan this?”

  He held up his hands. “Not me, I swear. Is there a card with it?”

  She explored at the base of the stems. “Yeah.” Pulling it out, she knew by the handwriting even before she read the words. “My mom. It’s from my mom.”

  “Well, that makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  Lexie sat back with a thump onto the grass. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “She never acts like she loved him.”

  “How?”

  “She won’t talk about him. She started dating six months after he died.”

  “Maybe she was lonely.”

  “What’s wrong with lonely after your husband dies?”

  “Everyone grieves in their own way.”

  “But not her. She barely grieved at all. You remember,” said Lexie. It was suddenly incredibly important that he agree with her about this. “You remember, too. How it was.”

  Beloved by so many, the whole town had mourned the loss of Lexie’s larger-than-life father. They’d actually hung black bunting—that hadn’t been used since JFK—around Mabel’s Cafe. City Hall had closed for the funeral. The fire department brought in engines from Eureka to cover the stations, and they’d borrowed a sheriff’s dispatcher to work the ComCen. Lexie had heard later that the woman had been terrified she would have to dispatch a fire, but Darling Bay during Chief Tindall’s funeral went completely silent, as if every single resident was grieving the loss. The worst thing Lexie had ever seen in her life was the line of fire trucks on First Street, their ladders up and stretched over the roadway, draped with giant flags, as she and her mother rode under them in the hearse from the church to the cemetery. And the men and women standing at attention in their Class As next to the rigs weren’t just her father’s employees to her. By then they were her coworkers. They were her friends. In a very real sense, her family.

  Lexie could vividly remember Coin that day. He hadn’t met her eyes when they’d driven by, he’d stayed at attention, his face strong. But she’d seen the tears dripping from his chin, darkening his shirt.

  “You remember how it was,” she said again.

  “It was the worst loss Darling Bay Fire had ever had.”

  “My mother didn’t act like the rest of the town. She didn’t act like strangers did. She just moved on.”

  “Lexie, the last thing I want is to argue with you, but I know your mom. She loved him. Take it from someone whose parents didn’t have that together. She still loves him.”

  “The last man she dated updated maps for the road service. A more boring man could never exist even if you cloned him and gave him a robot soul.”

  “Huh,” said Coin, brushing off the top of the stone with his hand.

  “What?”

  “Seems to me like maybe that’s why she dated him.”

  The thought was new, and somehow frightening. Could it be true that both she and Mira stayed away from men with high risk jobs because they were still too sad to risk their hearts? Lexie knew that’s what it was for her, even though she hated to admit it. But maybe that’s how her mother loved her father, too? Mira hadn�
��t dated a single man who had any characteristic in common with Robert Tindall, in either looks or personality. Every man she’d gone out with had been white collar with day jobs. She’d dated a banker, two lawyers, and an accountant. “Every single one of them was boring,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “Oh, I’m just thinking … you’re right.”

  Coin smiled. “Can I get you on record saying that?”

  “No, really. All of them have been boring. And I’ve been so mad at her this whole time.”

  “But …”

  “But she’s been dating the exact opposite of Dad.”

  “What does the note say?”

  Lexie’s eyes widened. “I can’t look.”

  “Too private. I get it.”

  “No, it’s just that I can’t do it. Too weird. Will you read it for me?”

  “You sure?”

  Lexie nodded. She bit the inside of her lip hard, and for a moment the blood tasted like tears, too.

  Coin squatted and opened the small, folded card. “It just says ‘Always.’”

  A yellow bloom of pain glared against the back of Lexie’s eyelids, as if a flashbulb had gone off. And maybe one had, because it was clear now. Always. Lexie was sideswiped with a memory—when she was very young, she’d asked her mother why he said it instead of “goodbye,” like the other fathers did. “Because he wants to make sure that if he doesn’t make it home, that it was his last word to me.” When she’d asked why her father might not come home, she hadn’t understood why her mother just shook her head. Lexie was too young then to realize that not all firefighters did.

  She stood, holding out her hand for her best friend to take. “Take me home, please,” said Lexie.

  Coin broke the speed limit on the way to her house. Lexie found an old receipt in the truck’s door pocket and folded into a tiny square, over and over again, trying to ignore how anxious her stomach felt.

  At home, as she fumbled with fingers made thick from excitement to get the front door unlocked, he asked, “Do you really want this?”