by Marta Perry
Davy was swinging on the bottom rail of the fence, crooning a song softly to himself as he watched the animals.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass your brother by mentioning the dog the other day. I didn’t know about his disability.”
“You didn’t embarrass him. He’s adjusted to it now. At first—” Seth’s face sobered. “When it looked as if Gabe couldn’t fight fire any more, we didn’t know what to do to help him. Then Nolie gave him a reason to go on living.”
She shivered in spite of the warmth of the September sun. “That could have been you.”
She regretted it as soon as the words were out. He’d closed her out before when she’d mentioned the dangers of a job like his for a single father.
“I guess it could have.” He stared absently at the goat, which seemed to be trying to eat its way through the fence. “You can’t think about results like that on the job or you’d be worthless. To fight fire, you need a certain belief in—well, your own invincibility, I guess.”
She thought again of the way he’d stepped in to put the heavy ladder up, casually confident in his body’s ability to do what was needed. She had to admit, that air of confidence was very compelling.
“But you have a son.” She couldn’t hold the words back. “If something happened to you—”
He shrugged, pressing his arm against hers and sending another wave of warmth flooding her. “Every firefighter faces that. In my case, I’m a single father, but I do have family.” He nodded toward the picnic tables, smiling. “Lots and lots of family. If something happened to me, they’d take over.”
“And your wife?” It took an effort to keep her tone casual. “Would her family help out?”
For an instant he didn’t move, didn’t answer. Her question hung there, like the bumblebee that was poised over a flower at her feet.
“No.” His tone brought her gaze to his face, and what she saw there chilled her. “My wife had a mother who left her, a father who controlled her every move and a sister who deserted her. She didn’t want to have anything to do with her family. And neither do I.”
His words were totally implacable. All the friendly laughter had been wiped from his face. He meant what he said.
So she couldn’t tell him the truth. Ever.
Chapter Four
Julie was still struggling with Seth’s words when she arrived at the firehouse on Monday. She’d gone over and over it, and she couldn’t come to any other conclusion. If Seth knew who she was, he’d hate her.
My wife had…a sister who deserted her. Was that really how Lisa had seen Julie’s actions? Pain clutched at her heart. Was it?
She took a deep, steadying breath and willed the pain away, trying to regain her detachment. Lisa was gone, and she couldn’t change anything she’d done or neglected to do. She’d concluded a long time ago that they’d both just done what they thought was necessary to survive emotionally.
For her, that meant keeping the shield of her detachment in place. She’d finally figured out how to do that with her father, so that she could see him every month or two, like a dutiful daughter, and still come away whole.
For Lisa, surviving had meant severing the ties completely, so Julie had respected her sister’s decision. At least, she’d told herself that was what she was doing when she hadn’t attempted to stay in touch.
Had Lisa interpreted that as desertion? Seth had said so, and Seth should know.
The pain flared, like flames shooting up from dying embers. She quenched them again. This wasn’t about her pain, or her past.
This was about assuring herself that Davy was in the best situation for him. She’d take that step by methodical step, as if she was researching an article about any child.
On the surface, the answer seemed obvious. Davy had plenty of people who loved him, like the children in the books she’d read to Lisa when they were little.
She and Lisa hadn’t quite believed in those big, happy families, but the Flanagans obviously did exist.
Still, she had questions, starting with Seth’s determination to continue in what had to be a dangerous job. The Flanagans seemed to take firefighting for granted. She didn’t.
She couldn’t just accept Seth’s view that the rigorous training he and the other firefighters went through would keep them safe. She had to see that for herself—and that meant going with them on a fire call. So far Seth had done an excellent job of evading that request.
No longer. She pulled the door open. Today she’d get his agreement, one way or another.
When she entered the echoing building, Dave Hanratty glanced her way from the back of a rig. He waved with the polishing cloth in his hand, reminding her of what Seth had said about the compulsive cleaning firefighters did.
“Hi, Julie. Here to take some more pictures?”
“Always.” She swung her camera bag. “I’d like to talk to Seth first. Is he around?”
“Right here.” Seth’s voice floated down from the top of the stairs. “Come up and have some coffee.”
“Sounds good.” She couldn’t help contrasting that welcome with the reaction he’d have if he knew who she was.
He didn’t know, and he wouldn’t. She arranged a smile on her face and walked quickly up the steps.
Seth waited at the top, his smile relaxed. The guardedness he’d shown her at first seemed completely gone now. That should make getting his agreement easier.
“Not running up the steps today?” he asked.
“Thanks, I already had my run this morning.” She’d proved she was tougher than she looked that day at the academy, hadn’t she? “I realized a long time ago that I had to have an exercise program I could do when I traveled, and you can run most anywhere.”
“It suits you.”
Before she could decide if that was a compliment, he’d crossed to the stove and lifted the coffeepot that sat there.
“Sure you want this? Ryan made coffee today, and everyone knows he can’t boil water.”
“Sure. You’re drinking it, aren’t you?” She pulled out a chair at the scarred table and sat down.
Seth filled one of the heavy white mugs that sat on the counter. “Firefighters develop cast-iron stomachs after a while. Or ulcers.”
He brought the mug to her, added a little more of the jet brew to his own cup and sat down opposite her. “I have a cast-iron one, but I have to admit, I like my mother’s cooking a lot better than anything I get here.”
“Your mother’s a great cook.”
“She’s had plenty of practice.” He grinned. “If you think we’re bad now, you should have seen us eat when there were four teenage boys in the house.”
She enjoyed his smile entirely too much. It would disappear when she told him what she wanted.
“Your cousin Brendan lived with you, I take it.” She couldn’t be blamed for holding on to the relaxed atmosphere a moment or two longer, could she?
He nodded. “His father was Dad’s brother. When Bren’s parents died in an accident, there wasn’t any question about where he’d live.”
Just as there apparently hadn’t been any question about where Seth and Davy would live after Lisa had died. They’d moved back to the family home, and life had apparently gone on seamlessly.
Seth raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong? Besides the coffee, I mean.”
She’d been quiet too long. “Just thinking about something I want to ask you.”
“Ask away.”
“Fine. I will. When are you going to take me on a fire call?”
She saw the caution in his eyes, though the smile didn’t leave his face.
“We haven’t had any fire calls in a couple of days.”
“That’s an evasion, not an answer.”
The smile did disappear then. “Look, when we go out on a call we never know exactly what we’re getting into. We can’t concentrate on our jobs if we’re worried about a civilian getting into trouble.”
“I’m not exactly someone you picked
out of the crowd. This is my job, too.”
“You’re not going to remind me that you went up in a fighter jet, are you?” The twinkle reappeared in his eyes, warming her.
“No. But didn’t I prove I could handle myself at the fire academy?”
“An hour of training doesn’t prepare you for the real thing.”
“You expected me to fall apart there, so you’d have an excuse not to take me. Didn’t you?”
“If I admit it, will you stop bugging me?”
“No.” She’d take that as weakening. “I’m not planning to fight the fire, just photograph it.” And see for myself what you face.
“I’d still have to watch out for you.”
Something about the way he said the words showed her the source of his reluctance. “You don’t want to be responsible for anyone else.”
He looked annoyed. “This isn’t about me.”
“It is when you’re the one who gets to say whether I do my job or not. Perhaps Ryan should have been the one the chief picked to babysit me. He’d let me go.”
“Ryan’s not ready for that kind of responsibility.” He shook his head. “Maybe I’m not, either.”
“The chief must think you are. Ryan said he’s got his eye on you for a promotion.”
“Ryan doesn’t know what the chief thinks. And if I were—well, I’m not sure I want a promotion.”
That startled her. Didn’t everyone want to advance in his career?
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I like where I am. One of the team. You get bumped up a grade, all of a sudden people start looking at you differently.”
“The promotion would pay more, wouldn’t it?”
“Money’s not all that important.”
It was a good thing her father couldn’t hear his son-in-law talk that way. Money and power—they were Ronald Alexander’s twin idols.
“If you were promoted, the job might be safer.” For you. For Davy.
A quick gesture dismissed that. “My job isn’t all that dangerous.”
She saw the opportunity and took it. “Then why won’t you take me along?”
For an instant, she thought he was angry. Then he shook his head slowly. “Who would think that under that beautiful exterior there lives a shark?”
“Not a shark.” She could only hope she wasn’t blushing. Beautiful. “Just a determined photojournalist.”
He sighed. “All right. If you go through a drill with us, just to be on the safe side, I’ll let you ride along.”
“Deal,” she said quickly, before he could reconsider.
“Deal.” He put his hand over hers, as if to seal the bargain.
A wave of warmth spread across her skin from his touch. Seth was looking at her as if they were partners. Friends. She wanted, suddenly, for that to be true.
And that was a dangerous thing to want.
Seth splashed some water on his face, trying to shock himself awake. He’d taken a nap, something he rarely did when he was on duty.
He stretched, glancing at his watch. Well, at least by this time Julie would be gone.
Now why, exactly, did that matter to him?
It didn’t. Julie White wasn’t anything but a nuisance in his life. An attractive nuisance, it was true, but a nuisance all the same.
He stretched again, opened the door and walked out into the firehouse kitchen. And found Julie still there.
He hesitated for a moment, then went toward the kitchen table where she sat. “Are you taking up permanent residence around here?”
She glanced from the laptop computer, frowning a little. She wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses that he hadn’t seen before, and combined with the frown they made her look serious and efficient. She blinked, as if she’d forgotten where she was.
She glanced at her watch. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m sorry if I’m getting in the way.”
“Relax. You’re not in the way.” He headed for the coffeepot, stifling a yawn. “Excuse me. I don’t know why I bothered taking a nap. It just makes me groggy.”
He took a hefty swallow of the coffee, expecting the worst. But the brew actually tasted like coffee. He lowered the cup.
“Ryan didn’t make this.”
Her smile flickered. “I did.”
“Hey, you go around making coffee we can drink, and we may not let you leave.” He sat down next to her.
“Actually, cleaning the pot may have had something to do with improving the taste. Were you up late working last night?”
He shook his head. “Davy had a restless night and ended up in bed with me.” He grimaced. “Sleeping with that kid is like sleeping with a windmill. His arms and legs are all over the place.”
She took off the glasses, holding them absently, as if her mind were miles away. “Does he often sleep with you?”
He wasn’t sure whether there was an implied criticism in her words or not. “Not very often. Just if he wakes and seems upset.” He shrugged. “I guess even at Davy’s age, you can have a bad dream.”
“Yes.” Her voice was soft, her gaze far away. There was a tiny line between her brows, and her lips had tightened slightly.
And if he didn’t stop looking at her so closely, he might start getting ideas. That would be bad. Julie White was definitely not his type.
Ruth O’Neill, now there was the kind of woman he was looking for. They’d be going on their first date soon, and if things worked out—
He left it there, unaccountably reluctant to follow it further. Ruth was nice, safe, kind. So what if she didn’t make him wonder how soft her skin was?
He put the mug down with a thump and focused on Julie’s computer screen instead of her face. The screen displayed a photo of one of the preschool kids wearing a fire helmet, and she seemed to be working on it.
“What are you doing with the picture? It already looks terrific to me.”
“Not quite. It’s the expression I wanted, but the background’s a little too cluttered. That’s the great thing about shooting in digital.”
She clicked the mouse, and the child’s face filled the screen. A few more clicks, and a faint shadow disappeared. She smiled at the image, her lips softening.
“You put a lot of love into that, don’t you?”
The smile seemed to freeze on her face, and her eyes evaded his. “I love my work. It’s my life.” A barrier seemed to go up between them.
“Sounds as if your career doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”
She shrugged, still not looking at him. “I guess not. I’m traveling a lot, and when I’m home, I’m usually preparing for the next job.”
Is that what put that loneliness in your eyes, Julie?
Well, that was a question he wouldn’t ask, because that would indicate an interest in Julie he was determined not to feel.
Not your type, he reminded himself again.
She turned back to the computer, and a photograph of Davy came up. The trusting look in his son’s eyes put a lump in his throat.
“You’re not going to tell me there’s anything wrong with that one, are you?”
The line between her brows reappeared. “It’s not bad. But it’s not exactly what I wanted. I’d like to print a few out for your mother.” She shrugged. “Call me a perfectionist, but I want them to be just right. She’s been so nice to me.”
He shouldn’t ask her. Not your type. He was going to, anyway.
“I’m picking Davy up at preschool and taking him to the park. Why don’t you meet us there? You can take all the pictures you want.”
“Really?” Her smile took his breath away.
“Really.”
This was for Mom, he told himself firmly. It wasn’t because he wanted to spend more time with Julie.
If she got to the park before Seth and Davy, she would look way too anxious. To be honest, she felt that way, but she shouldn’t show it.
She drove slowly down the residential street that Seth had told her would lead to the
park. The street was lined with older homes, but there was nothing rundown about the neighborhood. Many of the houses were built of the mellow brick that seemed characteristic of Suffolk, and big old maples shaded lawns meant for children to play. Chrysanthemums and coneflowers crowded flower borders.
School must be out, because groups of children danced along the sidewalks or chased each other through the yards, as if that space was communal property. Interesting, that in a town the size of Suffolk, children still felt safe walking home from school.
She and Lisa had always been driven, slipping from the car to the school in their neat uniforms, seeing nothing of the world outside their schoolrooms.
In a few years, Davy would undoubtedly be like that boy who was racing his friends along the walk, jacket trailing from his backpack, dodging between the pairs of girls who walked more slowly, heads together, talking.
Davy. Her heart skipped a beat. Spending time with him…and Seth at the park…was a plum that had fallen into her lap.
She’d take advantage of this situation, but she had to do it without giving away anything of herself. Seth was altogether too easy to talk to. She had to be careful.
There was the park, a larger expanse of green dotted with the bright colors and shapes of a child’s play area. And there was Seth, pushing Davy on a red plastic swing. Trying to ignore her quickened pulse, she pulled to the curb and got out of the car.
Seth spotted her immediately and waved. He bent over, saying something to Davy, and the child turned, waving his small hand in imitation of his father.
It was useless. She couldn’t possibly stop having a reaction to the sight of her nephew. All she could do was try to act her part.
The photographer, that’s all she was. Here to take some pictures of Davy as a gift for his grandmother. She started across the grass toward them.
Lord, what am I to do with these feelings for Lisa’s child? Am I really meant to walk back out of his life without ever being anything more to him?