“I’m afraid that’s not one of my options.”
“Are you going to stay in Paseo?”
“I plan to, assuming I can find a job.”
Kim glanced up from her task of ripping open the napkin package. “What kind of work do you do?”
“You mean besides scrub floors and wash kids’ clothes?” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “The last time I earned a paycheck I was in college making sandwiches in the student union.”
“What was your major?”
“History, but I didn’t come close to graduating, not that there are many jobs around for historians who do have a bachelor’s degree. Liking to rummage around in old, yellowed books for arcane facts isn’t listed as a job title in the want ads. I thought I’d try to brush up on my typing. We bought the kids a computer last year, so I can study up on word-processing programs.” She pried the lid off the potato salad and stuck in a spoon. “What I’m saying is that I’m not terribly employable, which scares me to death.”
“You’re a smart woman. You’ll find something.”
“I certainly hope so.” She’d have to find it soon, too. Every mail delivery seemed to bring another overdue bill. Whatever had Ray been thinking? Assuming he’d been thinking with his brain at all instead of another part of his anatomy.
A wave of shame washed over her, not because of Ray’s adultery, but because she’d allowed him to steal her self-esteem. She’d believed him when he’d said she didn’t have a head for numbers. Well, she was doing the addition now and the picture was bleak because of Ray’s shortcomings. Not hers.
Somehow she and the children would be fine without him. She believed that now. She had to.
When the food was set out on the table, Kim circulated through the house to let the workers know lunch was ready. Janice went outside to tell the men they could come eat whenever they wanted to take a break.
The men were laughing and wisecracking out front, making disparaging comments about the skill—or lack thereof—of their fellow firefighters.
“I don’t know, Tolliver,” Mike Gables said to his buddy Jay. “You’ve got more paint on yourself than you have on the house. You sure you aren’t still having some problems with your eyesight?”
“I can see you waving that brush around, but it doesn’t look like you know where to put it,” Jay retorted. “The speed you’re working, we’re gonna be here a month.”
“According to my wife, it’s not speed that counts. She prefers slow and leisurely. But you wouldn’t know about—”
“Yeah, well, Kim says—”
“Gentlemen,” Janice interrupted, grinning at their bantering. “Anytime you want to take a break from comparing your styles, lunch is ready in the kitchen.”
Jay looked down from his perch on the ladder. “We’ll be right there, just as soon as Gables figures out how to get it right.”
“Yeah, like you know, huh? How many houses have you painted?”
Janice left them to their good-natured bickering, circling the house to tell the others about lunch. Above the chatter of conversation, she could hear Greg Turrick crooning a country-western tune, a pleasant accompaniment to the mundane task of painting.
Reaching the rear of the house, she winced at the sight of Kevin standing on a ladder and stretching to his full reach to dab a bit of paint on the far corner of a windowsill. She held her breath until he righted himself.
“Lunchtime, Kevin,” she called.
“In a minute, Mom.” He dipped his brush in the paint can again. “I gotta finish this first.”
Every overly protective instinct rose up in her. She wanted to pull Kevin down off the ladder. Cuddle him. Protect him from all risk of injury. But she knew he was learning to be a man here among these firefighters. She wouldn’t deprive him of that chance.
With her heart in her throat and a prayer on her lips, she turned away. At least she didn’t have to watch.
Spotting Maddie playing with Buttons at the back of the yard, she smiled to herself. She should have known. If a dog, or any animal, was within two blocks, that’s where she’d find her daughter.
Then and there, she promised herself she’d talk to Mike Gables about the puppies Buttons had sired. Her daughter deserved to have something special of her own to love.
So did she, Janice mused, the image of Logan popping effortlessly into her imagination. She chided herself for her wayward thoughts, particularly after what Andrea had told her. Guilt was not a good basis on which to form a relationship.
“Honey, lunch is ready in the kitchen,” she told her daughter. “You go on inside, and I’ll be there in a minute to help you.”
“Can I give Buttons some lunch, too? He’s hungry. I know he is.”
Janice doubted that. The dalmatian looked trim but well fed. “One piece of lunch meat,” she conceded, “after you eat your own sandwich.”
Popping up like a jack-in-the-box, Maddie went racing toward the house. Janice suspected her daughter would wolf down her own sandwich in order to return to her beloved Buttons as quickly as possible.
Continuing on her tour of the house—and noting with pleasure the improvements that had already been made—she found Logan working alone on the far side of the house. He seemed very intense, his concentration absolute. She imagined he did everything that way, giving whatever task he had at hand his full attention.
Including making love.
That thought had been hovering for days just outside her awareness. Once again the sting of guilt assailed her. Only minutes ago she’d been told Logan felt guilty about her husband’s death. If that were true, even considering making love with him was the ultimate betrayal of her husband.
A husband who had betrayed her with another woman.
Dear heaven, at some primal level did she simply want to get even?
“Hi, Jan, did you want something?” Logan asked. He lifted the Giants’ baseball cap he was wearing and threaded his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair.
She snapped out of her trance. Oh, yes, she wanted a lot of things but not this sense of confusion, this inability to evaluate her emotions rationally. Her world kept tipping, spinning out of control in ways she’d never before imagined.
“Are you here because you blame yourself for Ray’s death?” she blurted.
Slowly, Logan descended the ladder. What had given him away? What gesture? What slip of the tongue? “I was up there with him,” he said cautiously. “On the roof.”
“I don’t believe you were to blame. It was an accident. Wasn’t it?”
She studied him with guileless eyes, eyes that were trying to read his thoughts. He willed her not to ask for the details of that fateful day. How could he possibly tell her, or anyone else, the truth?
He had the urge to reach out to her, pull her into his arms, tell her there were some things she wasn’t meant to know. That it didn’t matter how or why her husband had died. But he couldn’t do that. She’d once loved Ray enough to marry him. Even though her husband had been unfaithful, that didn’t give Logan the right to rub salt in the wound. Or risk destroying her kids’ memories of their father.
It didn’t matter if she blamed him or not. Not when he blamed himself.
Opening her mouth, she started to speak, then apparently thought better of whatever she’d been about to say. “Lunch is ready whenever you are. In the kitchen.”
Tension eased from his shoulders. “Fine. Just let me finish up this little bit of trim.” He gestured toward the spot he’d been working. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
She seemed to want to stay, to ask the question that had been so obviously on the tip of her tongue. Logan didn’t want her to.
Turning, paintbrush in hand, he climbed back up the ladder. Below him he could sense her confusion, her fear that if someone other than Logan had been on that roof, Ray might still be alive.
Damn it! That’s what he was afraid of, too. It twisted in his gut night and day. Somehow he should have stopped Ray from
even going up on that roof. It would have been better if Logan had risked it alone.
LOGAN CAME OUT of the civil-service testing room the following week, his head pounding with facts and figures, procedures for safely maneuvering a fire truck through the streets of Paseo. He checked his watch. He’d warned Janice he’d likely be late for soccer practice. He’d been right.
He grinned like a little kid—from relief that the test was over and because he’d be seeing Janice within minutes.
Only a few cars were in the school parking lot, teachers working late and Janice’s familiar van. She needed a newer vehicle, something with air bags and a lower profile that wasn’t at risk in high winds.
He’d caught himself worrying about her a lot lately, and more than just about her strained finances. He worried about what she’d do if her car broke down, who she would call. What if her plumbing backed up? Did she know a reliable plumber or would some jerk take advantage of her, overcharging her because she was a woman alone?
It wasn’t his business to worry about her. But he did. He couldn’t seem to help himself.
Maddie spotted him from across the schoolyard. She raced toward him, and he scooped her up in his arms, loving her big, welcoming smile and inhaling her sweaty scent.
“Hey, sprite, what’s happening?”
“Mommy says when we move to a new house, I can have one of Buttons’s babies.”
“So, you wore her down, huh?” He kept walking toward the soccer field, listening to Maddie chatter, but he only had eyes for Janice, who was surrounded by nine-year-old boys. She made quite an attractive package, looking youthful and trim in her shorts and tank top. If the boys had been a few years older, Logan would have been jealous of the attention she was giving them.
“Uh-uh. She said she wanted one, too.”
“You’re going to have two puppies?” He feigned amazement.
The child giggled, a high-pitched, happy sound. “No, silly, we’re gonna share one puppy.”
“Ah. Now I understand.” Lowering her to the ground, he gave her a wink and patted her head. “I gotta get to work or your mom will fire me as assistant coach.”
“Uh-uh. She likes you.”
Did she? Logan couldn’t be sure. No question, she was grateful for his help. But gratitude wasn’t what he was looking for—not that he had a right to ask for anything more. Besides, since the weekend painting party, she’d been hesitant around him, as if his sense of guilt was as infectious as a flu virus.
He reached the middle of the field as the boys separated into scrimmage teams.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“How’d the test go?”
“Long and tiring, but I think I did okay.”
Her smile was the mirror image of her daughter’s, and had a similarly profound effect on his heart, but in a more adult way.
“I’m sure you did better than okay.”
“We’ll know the results in a week.”
She glanced toward the players. “You’re not playing dodge ball, Terry. Use your feet. Help Kevin protect the goal. You’re the last line of defense before the goalie, and he can’t do it all on his own.”
“You’re getting good at this.”
“I’m faking it, but don’t tell the boys.” Laughing, she kept her eyes on the ragged soccer play, throwing in a little body language when a kicked ball just eased past the goalie. “Nice try, Chuck. Good effort, Kevin. Let’s take the ball back to the midline and try again.”
She glanced up at Logan. “I listed the house with a Realtor today. He says the market is really good right now, he even thinks he’s got a buyer who’s transferring to Paseo and had a deal go sour at the last minute on a house in our same tract when the owners backed out. The family is scheduled to show up in a couple of weeks. The Realtor thinks I ought to go ahead now and have the house tented for termites.” She reached out with her foot to stop an errant pass, then kicked the ball back into the field of play. “Which means the kids and I will have to stay overnight in a hotel unless I can con a neighbor into letting us move in with them.”
“Move in with me, instead.” The impulsive words were out before he stopped to think through all the ramifications of his invitation.
Her head snapped around. “We couldn’t impose on you—”
“It’s no imposition. The kids would have to double up in the extra bedroom. You can have my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“But you’ve already done so much. I’m sure Debbie down the street—the family with the swimming pool—wouldn’t mind us camping out—”
“We’re only talking about one night. The kids could fish right from the dock at my front door or they could swim—”
“You live on a lake?”
“Lake Almador. It’s really a reservoir and not all that big. But there are a few cabins along the north shore, most of them used only for weekends, and the lake is stocked with ten-inchers. Midweek, particularly during the winter, it feels pretty remote from the world.”
She got a dreamy look in her eyes. “Sounds like heaven.”
“Not quite that good, but as close as I could find within commuting distance of my job. I’ll check my work schedule. We’ll do it when I’ve got a couple of days off in a row.”
“There’s a teachers’ institute coming up at school. The children would have that day off, too. We’ll have to work it around the soccer schedule.”
“No problem. We’ll plan to do it when the kids are off from school. It’ll be like—” He came close to saying like a honeymoon. That was an odd thought. You didn’t take two kids on a honeymoon. And getting married was a prerequisite to that kind of a trip. He didn’t dare read anything more into her hopeful expression than a desire to get away for a couple of days. “We’ll make it into a mini-vacation.”
He’d concentrate like hell on being a good host, which meant he’d have to keep his hands off Janice.
Looking at the sparkle in her ginger-brown eyes and the way her sensual lips curved into a smile, he knew that wasn’t going to be easy.
Chapter Seven
The fire tone sounded.
“Engines 61 and 62,” Emma Jean’s voice blared throughout the station house. “Car fire on the southbound off-ramp, Highway 99 and First Street.”
Logan stepped to the side of the bay as the men of the two engine companies raced to their vehicles. The ladder truck wouldn’t be rolling on this one—no roofs to ventilate, no ladders to climb to attempt a rescue. The surge of adrenaline that had pumped through Logan’s veins ebbed. His turn would come another time.
As the engines rolled out onto the street, sirens wailing, the station quieted almost as if the building itself was taking a deep breath. The air, which had been filled with the vitality of more than a dozen men laughing and talking, stilled, subtly replaced by a hint of anxiety. Even a car fire could be dangerous. Firefighters were out of the station risking their lives.
Logan imagined Janice must cringe every time she heard a siren. She’d lost one husband to the red devil. It didn’t make any sense that she’d ever take that risk again. A man would be a fool to hope that she would.
Sliding his hands into the pockets of his uniform trousers, Logan strolled out back to where Big Red was parked. A pair of holey tennis shoes filled with sockless feet stuck out from beneath the ancient fire truck.
“Hey, Tommy, how’s it going?” Logan peered down through the open engine compartment at the adolescent working below.
“Just about got this transmission nailed. A couple of more hours and we’ll give it a smoke test.”
“It’d be embarrassing if we had a fire here at the station.”
“Well, yeah, you know what I mean.” The boy gave himself a shove and rolled out from under the truck on a crawler. His blue coveralls were spotted with grease stains.
“You’re a marvel, Tommy. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to remake a transmission.”
Standing, the boy pulled a rag from his hip pocket
and wiped his hands. “It’s no big deal.” The acne on his face turned an even brighter shade of red than usual.
“So Big Red’s going to be ready for the parade?”
“I guess. Unless something else busts.”
Which was entirely possible, given the age of the old truck. Still, they’d had it painted and it sparkled in the sunlight. It’d be a real hit in the parade.
“Can I asked you something, Logan?”
“Sure.” Tommy’s parents were divorced, and Logan sensed the boy’s father wasn’t around much. The men of Station Six had de facto adopted the kid as their joint little brother.
“Am I really going to get to ride on Big Red in the parade?”
“Of course. Nobody has earned the ride more than you.”
Stuffing the rag back in his pocket, the boy studied the holey tip of his shoe, digging it into the asphalt. “I heard some of the guys talking. You know, they were, like, saying they were gonna bring girls—wives and stuff.”
Ah, now he knew where this conversation was headed. “You got somebody you want to bring?”
Without lifting his head, the boy shrugged. “I guess.”
“Has she got a name?”
“Uh, Rachel. Her ol’ man’s got a great muscle car. Totally out of sight!”
Logan suppressed a smile. “Go ahead and ask her. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, maybe I will.” He glanced up at Logan. “You gonna bring your girl?”
The boy’s question stopped him. He didn’t have a girl, which hadn’t stopped the image of Janice sitting next to him while he drove Big Red down the parade route from popping into his head. Or the sound of crowds cheering. Flags waving. Her proud smile meant just for him.
Wasn’t going to happen.
He hadn’t done much of the restoration work, mostly scraping away the rust and polishing the metal to a smooth gloss. The guys who had done the most mechanical repairs would get preference to ride the truck in the parade. But maybe he could suggest that Janice, the widow of a firefighter, and her children, could be given the honor of riding. She might like that. Certainly her kids would.
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