by Helen Lacey
She reached the doorway and stood beneath the threshold. The big shed was filled with people and she felt the gut-wrenching pain she always felt when confronted with this place. She always stayed outside, never going into the big, cold building with its corrugated walls and concrete floor. Memories bombarded Evie’s thoughts. Memories of Gordon’s lifeless body lying on the floor—and thoughts of well-meaning colleagues hovering around him, trying to revive him, trying to bring him back.
By the time Evie had arrived, he’d gone. There were no goodbyes. Just his battered body left stretched out on the cold floor, covered in a plastic tarp so she wouldn’t see the extent of his injuries.
She hated this place.
There was a group of people behind the fire truck, positioned in a half arc. Scott stood in the center beside a long white board and was talking to the Rural Fire Brigade volunteers in a quiet voice. She loved his voice, loved hearing him whisper things to her as they made love. Loved hearing him say she was beautiful, desirable...loved the soft pleas of encouragement against her skin when she touched him a certain way or in a certain place.
But he wasn’t speaking those words now. Now he was all-business, pure firefighter and every inch the man who risked his life daily because that was his job. Evie watched for a moment, half absorbed, half repulsed. Until she spotted Trevor. Her son was listening intently and wearing a yellow jacket, the same type of high-visibility gear the volunteers wore.
She saw red immediately. “Trevor?” About a dozen sets of eyes zoomed in on her, including her son’s. But it was Scott’s gaze she felt snap through her with blistering intensity. He stared at her, frowning, and she turned immediately back to her son. “Let’s go home.”
The silence continued. Everyone there knew her of course—she was poor Evie Dunn who’d lost her husband. They offered pity in their stares and it made her so mad she wanted to shout and tell them they were all reckless fools.
“But I was just—”
Evie raised her hand and beckoned him forward. “Come on,” she said, before she swiveled on her heels and headed back to the car with Trevor in tow. He was complaining, but Evie was in no mood to listen. She told him to take off the jacket and he handed it to her after a few seconds of resistance.
“Evie, wait up.”
She stilled instantly, told Trevor to get into the car and then turned and took the dozen or so steps to reach Scott. “How could you do it?” she demanded, her voice higher than she wanted, her heart pounding the blood through her veins.
“How could I do what?”
Evie glared at him, so angry she could barely get the words out. “How could you bring my son here?”
He looked at her oddly. “I don’t—”
“You had no right,” she said, and pushed away the hotness behind her eyes. “I don’t want him here with these people.”
“What people?”
Evie pointed toward the building. “The people who knew his father. People who did what Gordon did. People who were with him that night.”
“Evie,” he said quietly, “I had no intention of—”
“Don’t you get it?” she snapped, and tossed the jacket into his chest. He caught it immediately. “I don’t want him here.” She waved her arms. “He can’t want this like his father did. I don’t want him to be like Gordon. And I certainly don’t want him to be like you.”
* * *
The pain in Evie’s voice cut through Scott. “I don’t want him to be like you.” He wasn’t sure what to think. He heard her anguish and fought the instinctive urge to take her in his arms.
“Evie, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I didn’t realize you’d have a problem with Trevor coming with me.”
She made a huffing sound. “You should have asked permission. He’s my son.”
“He asked to come with me,” Scott explained. “I didn’t drag him here.”
“He’s a child. My child!” She crossed her arms jerkily, her anger palpable. “And I decide where he goes and who he goes with.”
“Okay,” he said, feeling less than agreeable but refusing to trade any more heated words with her while they were out in the open and at risk of being overheard, not only by Trevor but also by the dozen volunteers inside the shed. “We can talk about this later.”
She seemed to calm for a moment, and took a step forward. But she wasn’t calm at all, he noticed; she was furious—and all her fury was absolutely aimed toward him. “Don’t try to pacify me, Scott.” She planted her hands firmly on her hips. “You can play superhero with these people all you like—but don’t ever involve my son.”
“Superhero?” he echoed incredulously. “What does that mean?”
“You know exactly. I saw you in there. You were holding court with the volunteers, and they were listening to you like you’re some kind of fire god. Well, maybe to them you are. But not to me.” She tossed her hair. “To me you’re just...just...you’re...”
Scott wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. “I’m what?”
She glared at him and whispered, “A mistake.” With a spin, she turned away and stomped toward her small car. Scott watched wordlessly as she flung herself inside and drove off.
He remained where he was, feeling her words like a fist to his gut. After a moment, he turned around to find Cameron Jakowski standing a few feet away. He shrugged.
“If it makes you feel better,” Cameron said quietly, “it’s more about what happened here than you letting Trev tag along. Gordon was brought here the night he died.”
Scott’s stomach rolled. He pointed to the building. “Here?”
Cameron nodded. “Yeah. It was a pretty bad scene that night. There was no chance of the paramedics getting to him in time—his injuries were too extensive. He was crushed between two trailers at the holiday park. They brought him here and this is where he died.”
Scott felt a burning pressure gather behind his ribs. He left about an hour later determined to straighten the mess out with Evie.
It was well past six o’clock when he returned to Dunn Inn. The big house seemed eerily quiet. The lights from the Christmas tree blinked through the front window, and he headed for the room when he spotted Evie’s unmistakable silhouette moving back and forth through the curtains.
“Can we talk?”
She was by the sofa, fluffing cushions, and didn’t stop her task as she spoke. “I’d rather not.”
Scott took a few steps into the room. “Well, how about I talk and you listen?”
That got her attention and she stopped what she was doing. “Okay...talk.”
Scott pushed down the annoyance in his throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Fine,” she said tersely, and continued moving pillows. “You’re sorry.”
“Cameron told me about your husband.”
She looked across the room. “He did? And what did he say? That Gordon’s body was left at that place for seven hours? That I wasn’t allowed to see him because his injuries were so bad? That his blood-soaked jacket was lying on the floor for everyone to see? The same kind of jacket Trevor was wearing tonight. Or that I had to tell my five-year-old son his daddy wouldn’t be coming home?”
Scott chose his words carefully. “It must have been a difficult time.”
“It was the worst moment of my life.”
“And seeing Trevor there brought it all back?”
“Yes. And I don’t want my son involved in that life.”
Scott took a few steps toward her. “But if that’s what he chooses, Evie, all you can really do is support him.”
“Are you a parenting expert now?”
It was such an unlike-Evie thing to say that Scott felt the sting of it through to his bones. “No—but I know you can’t make someone be something they’re not.”
Evie raised her chin. “My son is going to college, and then he’ll choose whatever career suits him. He won’t be risking his life pursing pointless adventure.”
A kernel of resentment sprouted inside him.
She was so wrong. “I hardly think that an Emergency Services volunteer is looking for pointless adventure—it takes a certain kind of selflessness to risk one’s own life to ensure the safety of someone else.”
“Well, you would think that,” she said, not looking the least bit convinced. “But I know most of those people that were there this afternoon. They were Gordon’s friends—they’re the same people he used to bungee jump with and deep-sea-dive with and when they had a chance would climb every rock face they could find. They have the same rogue gene he had—that need to push to the limit, to try something purely because it was dangerous.” She sat down on the sofa. “That’s not a legacy I want my son to inherit.”
So her husband had an adventurous spirit. It began to make sense to him now. “It was a bad storm that killed your husband, Evie, not extreme sports.”
“It was the thrill,” she said coolly. “The thrill of beating human mortality. Wasn’t your own father one of them? I should think you’d understand my determination to keep Trevor away from those people.”
“I do understand. But I also know that the volunteers I was with this afternoon are good people who care for their community and want to give something back. They’re not thrill seekers, Evie.”
“I know them,” she said quietly. “I know what makes them tick. I know that on the night of the cyclone, Gordon couldn’t wait to get out there—he couldn’t wait to put on his jacket and face the elements. Because he had no fear and no concern for the consequences. He wanted to fix everything, and in the end he couldn’t do the one thing he should have done...kept himself safe...kept himself part of our family. He broke our family apart because he had this need to protect everyone around him.”
Realization landed squarely on Scott’s shoulders. “Is that why you’re so angry? Because he left you that night? Are you mad at him because he went out when he should have stayed home to protect you?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Yes. I don’t know.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and seemed so incredibly vulnerable Scott had to fight his urge to hold her. “I imagine the last thing he expected was that he wouldn’t come home to you.”
She looked up and met his gaze head-on. “You think I’m being irrational?”
“I think you’re...hurting...and maybe a bit misguided.”
His words clearly struck a chord because her eyes shone with tears. “I knew you’d never really understand how I feel about this stuff.”
“I do understand, Evie.”
“How could you? You’re a firefighter. Your whole life is a risk. You said yourself that you’d have to quit if you wanted...if you ever wanted something else...more than just the job.”
The idea of having more than just the job suddenly seemed very real. And quitting? Scott felt the weight of his words stomp between his shoulder blades. “I know what I said. I watched my friend die because he wanted both...and I watched my father give up time with his family because he was obsessed with his mountains. But the people you think are going to corrupt your son into wanting to risk his life—they’re just out to do their bit for their community. I don’t think they have lofty ideals about adventure or pushing themselves to the limits for the thrill of it. You’re wrong about them, Evie. And you’re wrong to not allow your son to get to know his father’s friends.”
She took a deep breath and glared at him through her tears. “I’m wrong because I want to keep my son safe?”
“You’re wrong because you assume everyone’s motivation is the same.” Scott rested his hands on the back of the sofa. “Do you want to know why I joined the fire department, Evie? Not so I could fulfill some desire for adventure or because I wanted to put my life on the line to satisfy an egotistical need to prove I’m immortal—I joined because I wanted a profession my father would be proud of.”
The words seemed truer now than they ever had before, and Scott forced back the lump of emotion suddenly clogging his throat. “He worked behind a desk his whole life, and a couple of times a year he’d take off for his mountains. And each time I’d wonder if this was the last time I’d see him. He wanted me to go with him, he wanted to share it with me, but I was just a scared kid who spent most of my time with my head in a book or playing football. I never went with him. I never got to understand what drew him to risk his life every time he climbed. By the time I’d gotten past my boyhood fears and thought that maybe I could go with him, he was dead. So I joined the LAFD and I thought in some way, from wherever he was, he might know I wasn’t afraid anymore.”
Evie felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes again and blinked a couple of times. She had a hard time imagining this strong, confident man being afraid of anything. Her feelings for him...her love for him suddenly felt like a powerful, overwhelming force—more intense than anything she had ever known.
But loving him wasn’t enough. She’d had a life before Scott entered her world—a life she had to get back to. Sensible Evie was about to make a comeback. She couldn’t change who she was—at least not forever. Perhaps for a few stolen weeks. But afterward she would be left with only memories and the knowledge that they were as incompatible as oil and water.
“I need to stay angry with you to help me get through these next few days. I can’t sleep with you anymore. I just can’t. Good night, Scott,” she said quietly, wanting nothing more than to fold herself in his arms and stay there for the rest of her life.
He touched her arm as she walked by him. “Evie,” he said, taking her hand. “Is this really how you want it to be?”
“Yes,” she said, but wasn’t sure how. “I think we both know it’s for the best.”
His expression was unreadable and he released her instantly. “For the record, Evie, I’ll never consider what’s happened between us a mistake.”
Chapter Eleven
Evie stayed downstairs for a while, thinking about Scott, thinking about Trevor. Her son deserved an explanation, so she headed directly for Trevor’s room when she got upstairs. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, a handheld computer game at his fingertips.
“Can I come in?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
Evie took a couple of steps into the room. “I’m not mad at you or anything,” she said quietly.
He looked up. “You’re mad at Scott, though.”
She didn’t disagree. “He should have asked me if it was okay for you to go with him.”
“He didn’t force me to go. I tagged along,” Trevor said. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”
A big deal? Evie suddenly felt like an overprotective, cloistering parent who wasn’t prepared to give her child the freedom to spread his wings. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. It’s just that I—”
“Don’t want me to end up like Dad,” he said, and tossed the game onto the bed. “Yeah, I know.”
Shame crept along her spine. “That’s not exactly it,” she said. “I just want you to have other opportunities.”
“I wasn’t joining up,” he told her. “I wouldn’t do that without talking to you about it first. I was just listening. Cody’s thinking of volunteering and I thought I’d go along and see what goes on there. But Scott told us we should think about finishing school first because that’s our priority at the moment.” He raised his brows. “It made sense. So, like I said, I wasn’t joining up—I was listening.”
Evie wanted to hug him close. Instead she took a deep breath. “I should have trusted you. But when I saw you wearing that jacket I—”
“I was only trying it on. Scott told me to wear it so I could feel how hot it gets inside one of those things. Then he told me to imagine wearing that and a heavy hat and oxygen and then walking into a fire.” Trevor held up one skinny arm. “He said he reckoned I needed to do a whole lot of push-ups before I could carry all that equipment.”
Evie tried to shake the powerful pounding of her heart. “He’s right.”
Trevor made a face. “I know he is. You shouldn’t
be mad at him. I wish he was hanging around.”
But he’s not.
* * *
Three days later Evie said goodbye to Scott. Callie was taking him to the airport and Evie barely registered his quiet farewell. She didn’t touch him, didn’t kiss him, didn’t hang on to him and tell him how much she would miss him, even though the need to do so pumped through her blood with a molten fury. She stood back as he shook Trevor’s hand and said goodbye to Flora and Amelia. She didn’t look at Callie as he collected his bags and left, terrified her friend would see the truth in her eyes.
Once he’d left she headed directly for her studio. She had managed about ten minutes alone when Flora Manning tapped on the door and didn’t wait to be invited inside.
“I’m sorry to see that young man leave,” Flora said pointedly.
“His life is in L.A.,” Evie said as she grabbed a couple of pots filled with brushes.
Flora raised her silver brows. “Is it?”
Evie dropped the pots into the sink. “I really don’t want to—”
“I’m not fooled, you know,” she said, cutting her off. “If you had any sense you’d jump into that car of yours and chase after him.”
Evie’s cheeks flamed. “I do have sense,” she said quickly. “That’s why I’m staying exactly where I am.”
“You’re stubborn,” Flora said. “That’s your trouble.”
“It’s better this way. He can get on with his life...and so can I.”
Flora looked around the room. “This isn’t your life—this is the place where you hide from life.” She tutted. “But enough said. Amelia and I are leaving tomorrow.”
And the house would be even quieter. With no new guests arriving for a few weeks, Evie had plenty of time to think about Scott. Plenty of time to remember everything they’d shared. But right now she had to pull herself together and not give in to the dreadful pain in her heart.