Fireman Dad

by Betsy St. Amant

  “What?” the chief fairly barked.

  “I’m … sorry.” The words floated from her lips, barely louder than a whisper, and Marissa tried again, louder. “I’m sorry for—everything. The last few years, especially. I mean—”

  The chief held up one hand to stop the embarrassing rush of words that couldn’t seem to join together the way she intended. “Me, too.” He held out his hand and Marissa rushed to grab it, joy pushing away the residual fear in her heart as she clung to his arm.

  “I haven’t been honest with you,” her father said, the lines of his brow creasing as he frowned. “I’ve wanted you off the festival project not just because of the arson fires but because I’ve been suppressing guilt. Your being involved just drudged up everything I kept fighting to keep down.”

  Marissa tilted her head. “What do you mean? What guilt?”

  “I should have been able to stop the council from their decision about the layoffs. I let my boys down.” A muscle in her father’s jaw twitched and he looked away, blinking rapidly. “And I let the stress of it all put me in here, where it was almost too late.”

  “Dad, it wasn’t your fault.”

  He shrugged, finally meeting her gaze once again. “It is what it is. Maybe I should have spoken up more, not been afraid for my own position. Maybe it wouldn’t have helped, anyway. But now I’ll never know.” He drew a deep breath. “But I was wrong to take my frustrations out on you for your doing a good deed. You’ve done the right thing by these men. I wish I could say the same.”

  Hope swelled in Marissa’s chest. “It’s not too late to get involved. I’m sure the families would like to see you at the festival this weekend—if you’re out of here, that is.”

  The chief tugged his hand free and rubbed his chin, chuckling. “Oh, I will be.”

  “If the doctor says it’s all right, of course.” Marissa’s mom leveled a glare at her husband, though the gesture still spoke of love.

  Watching the two of them interact as only an old married couple could increased her desire to see Jacob. Marissa edged toward the door. “I’m going to, uh, go get something from the vending machine.” She glanced at her mom, who shot her a knowing look with a quirk of her lips. “Want anything?”

  “Two chocolate bars,” the chief joked.

  “Nothing for either of us, thanks.” Marissa’s mom shot another warning glance. “We’ll be here when you get back.” When she looked at Marissa, her eyes softened. “And you tell Jacob we’d like to see him before he leaves. I think your father has something to tell him.”

  Marissa agreed and slipped outside, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. She leaned against it and briefly closed her eyes, breathing a silent prayer of thanks to God for a second chance.

  “Hey, there. Everything all right?” At the sound of Jacob’s voice, Marissa opened her eyes, meeting his gaze to find all her hopes and fears for the future together in one place.

  If only second chances could come more often.

  “He’s doing great. Ornery as usual.” She smiled, relief filling her chest as the last of her anxiety melted away. Leftover adrenaline still shook her legs. “I better get going before Owen wakes up and gets even more confused with me gone. My parents want to see you before you go, though.”

  “I’ll walk you to the parking lot and come back up.” Jacob tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as they headed down the hall toward the elevators. “Don’t want to keep the little man waiting.”

  Marissa leaned against Jacob as they rode down, grateful for his strength. Her legs felt like overcooked spaghetti noodles. She drew a steadying breath as the doors opened onto the first level. “Amazing how a few minutes can change everything, huh?”

  “It doesn’t take long for life to become different. I’d imagine you know that better than anyone.” He hesitated as they strolled through the lobby. “Marissa, there’s something I know that I don’t think you know I know.”

  “Blame the fact that it’s 4:00 a.m., but I have no idea what you just said.” Marissa laughed and stopped in front of the glass sliding doors. “What’s going on?”

  He tugged her outside, away from the receptionist and the E.R. patients waiting in the lobby, and paused beside the concrete column by the entrance. “This might not be the best time, but with the festival coming up, I don’t want anything between us at work and I feel like I’m keeping a secret.”

  “What secret?” Marissa frowned, a fresh wave of nerves wrapping around her middle. She crossed her arms, hoping this wasn’t another example of life changing in a moment. The security light above their heads buzzed, deafening in the silence as she waited.

  “I didn’t know before, but I do now.” Jacob raked his fingers through his already mussed hair. “I know your late husband was a fireman.” He looked down, then in her eyes. “I sort of pried it out of Liz.”

  Marissa nodded slowly, pulling in her lower lip. She wasn’t sure if his knowing the details of her former life made her feel annoyed or relieved. She exhaled slowly. “It wasn’t really a secret. Just not something I broadcasted.” She snorted. “I guess Liz did that enough for the both of us.”

  “Don’t be upset with her, it really wasn’t her fault.” Jacob sighed. “I just could tell there was more to your story and I couldn’t handle not knowing what it was.” He gingerly reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more understanding before. If I had known he died in the line of duty, I wouldn’t have been so pushy about … well, about us.”

  Marissa shivered at his touch, tilting her head to catch the warmth of his hand on her cheek. A brisk wind sent discarded flower petals from the nearby beds rushing past their feet, and Marissa followed the rejected petals with her eyes as they danced across the parking lot. Once beautiful and full of life, now on their way to being crushed by a passing car or stomped underfoot.

  She pulled away, and Jacob’s arm fell limply to his side. “I’m not upset with Liz. Or with you.” She shrugged, avoiding the compassion brewing in his eyes. “I just don’t want pity.”

  Jacob took a step closer to her. The breeze caressed his hair, the dark strands drawing attention to his intense blue gaze. “I would never insult you with pity, Marissa.”

  She tried not to miss his warmth and huddled into her sweatshirt in a vain effort to escape the wind, edging backward two steps to his one. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Yes, you do.” His voice was low, dangerous to her heart and the building emotion congealing in her throat. He didn’t touch her, but his proximity burned her body like a brand.

  Because he’s already a part of your heart. Her own thoughts flickered through her mind like an undeniable record on repeat. She made the mistake of darting a glance to his lips, and a spark jolted through her stomach. Jacob pressed forward, his hand cupping her neck and halting her escape. “Marissa, I want you. I want to be an ‘us.’ I want to be more than a begrudged friend to your son. I want to be your own personal hero.” He inhaled sharply. “And I really want to kiss you.”

  She opened her mouth, unsure if she would argue or agree, but Jacob’s lips were on hers before she could decide. He kissed her gently, then with more fervor, pulling her close until she snuggled into his embrace like a missing puzzle piece. She kissed him back, all the fear and relief and gratitude of the night flowing through her body as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Jacob abruptly stepped back, ending the kiss. He held her away by the shoulders, head ducked low as he caught his breath. When he met her gaze, electricity shot from his eyes into her own. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. I know you’re emotional tonight, and—”

  Heart racing as reality once more claimed her like gravity, Marissa jerked away and finished his sentence. “And this isn’t going to happen.” Tears filling her eyes, she attempted to pull her car keys from her pocket. Disappointment and longing racked her senses, and she fumbled with the ring bef
ore finding the right key. She thought if she could just make it through the festival, she’d be free of Jacob’s proximity and be able to think of him as just a family member of her new friend. But after his kiss, after getting a tangible knowledge of his feelings for her and her own for him, that would be impossible. He’d ruined her master plan, and it was her own fault for allowing him too close.

  “Why not?” Hope and desperation mingled in Jacob’s eyes. “I don’t care about the risk, Marissa. I don’t even care about my job anymore. I care about you.” He reached for her again and she held up both hands in defense. “Give me one good reason, Marissa. Just one.”

  One? There were twelve, spelled out in the bold letters on the back of his T-shirt. “I just can’t. I can’t do this again.” Fingers clenched around her keys, Marissa backpedaled through the nearly deserted lot, hoping to make it to her car before bursting into tears. “But thanks for being here tonight.” Her voice caught and she choked out her next words. “Thanks for being honest.”

  She turned then to avoid the pain stabbing her insides at his dejected expression, and raced for the security of her car before he could respond. Her pulse hammered in time to her racing feet. And thanks for breaking my heart.

  Jacob jabbed the elevator button with his thumb as if hoping it’d break into a thousand pieces. His heart still thumped so loudly the receptionist must have thought he needed an EKG. Marissa’s rejection echoed through his body like a war drum, and blood rushed in his ears. What had just happened? His lips still tingled from her kiss, and his hands shook like he was back in junior high with a crush. He stabbed the elevator button again in a futile effort to convince the mechanisms to work faster.

  The doors opened with a polite ding, and he felt like punching that, too. Instead, he ducked his head and drew a calming breath as the elevator ushered him back to Chief Brady’s room. He was a man on a mission—more like a kamikaze mission, but he couldn’t handle it anymore. He had to know the truth, had to know what his obstacles were if he had any hope of getting around them.

  Starting with the biggest.

  Jacob knocked twice on the cracked door to room 313. “It’s Jacob Greene.”

  “Come on in.”

  Mrs. Brady smiled from the bedside chair as Jacob eased his way inside, closing the door behind him. “He’s awake. I can’t vouch for his mood, however.” She winked.

  “How you feeling, sir?” Jacob paused by the chief’s bed, glad the hefty man’s coloring was better than it had been earlier that night.

  “Like a piñata.” The chief snorted as he adjusted the bed into a sitting position. “Never did like those things.”

  “You’ve been through a lot of poking and prodding.” Jacob hung back from the bed, offering a respectful distance as he leaned casually against the adjacent wall. “But you don’t look worse for the wear.”

  “I appreciate the lie.”

  Jacob chuckled, and the chief’s eyes lit with rarely seen humor before darkening into a serious expression.

  “You didn’t have to stand by me tonight the way you did. But you took charge, and that’s commendable.” He nodded briskly. “So, thank you.”

  “I wouldn’t have even considered anything different, sir. You’re the chief.” Jacob hesitated, then blurted the truth before he could change his mind. “And you’re also the father of the woman I love.”

  The chief blanched, and Mrs. Brady gasped, the magazine she’d been flipping through falling from her fingers. “Come again?”

  “I don’t mean to shock you, sir, you’ve been through enough tonight.” Jacob shrugged. “But I’ve struggled with this for weeks and I respect you enough to tell you the truth. At first I was afraid for my job. I know what happened with the fireman you shipped to Baton Rouge.”

  The chief snorted and Mrs. Brady shot him a glare. “You did what?”

  “Let the boy finish speaking.” The chief waved her off.

  Jacob darted a glance between the two of them before cautiously continuing. “My brother was one of the men laid off this past round, and I’ve been helping them financially. I couldn’t afford to risk my job, especially now that I’m up for the promotion.” He hesitated, then met the chief’s gaze full on. “But with all due respect, sir, I love your daughter too much to be that concerned anymore.”

  Mrs. Brady’s jaw gaped and the chief nodded to himself, his throat bobbing several times before he spoke. “A week ago, even two days ago, I’d have told you to keep your distance. My little girl’s been through enough in her short life, and me and her, well—” He coughed loudly. “We’re just now finding our footing again. But after tonight …”

  Jacob’s stomach tightened as he waited for the end of the chief’s sentence. Hope and fear mingled in a knot he didn’t dare yet attempt to untangle.

  “After tonight, I see the man you are.” The corners of the chief’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Your heart’s right there on your sleeve, son. I didn’t ever want to be one of those sops who had a brush with the grim reaper and turned all soft, but to be honest, I can’t imagine a better man for my daughter.”

  Joy burst in Jacob’s heart and he straightened in surprise, elation threatening to send him right out of his boots. “Thank you, sir. You won’t be sorry.”

  “Now if you tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it.” Chief shot him a warning look, his bloodshot eyes drooping as he settled back against his pillow. “But the way I see it, if you can change Marissa’s stubborn mind about firemen, you deserve her.”

  Jacob wasn’t sure if anyone could do that. But one thing was certain—he’d gladly give it a fair fight. “I appreciate it, sir. I’ll do my best.” He took a few steps toward the door, eager to leave before the chief could change his mind and before Jacob could beat himself up for taking such a risk with his boss in a hospital bed. “I’ll leave now so you can sleep.”

  “By the way, that promotion to driver is yours if you want it—regardless of what happens with you and Marissa. I don’t run my department that way.” The chief glanced at his wife’s pursed lips and then rolled his eyes. “At least, not anymore.”

  Jacob smiled. “Yes, sir.” He opened the door, disbelief blurring his vision. His main obstacle to Marissa was removed. Well, not the main one, but the most intimidating one, to be sure. He’d have to think about the promotion opportunity further. But there was time for that.

  “Jacob?” the chief called.

  He turned in the hallway. “Sir?”

  Chief offered a tired grin. “Good luck.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Early morning sunshine peeked through the sheer curtains, sending thin streams of light onto Liz’s couch where Marissa sat, cradling a mug of tea between both hands. She leaned over the cup, inhaling the aromatic steam, and groaned. “I can’t believe I was up all night. I haven’t done that since Owen was teething.”

  “Maybe the caffeine will help.” Liz yawned, leaning back against the cushions where she sat beside Marissa. “If not, you can always hit up a Starbucks on the way home.”

  “Owen was sleeping so soundly, I couldn’t bear to wake him up and confuse him even further.” Marissa shot her friend a weary but grateful smile. “Thanks again for your help. I don’t know what I would have done without you last night.” Her smile faded as the memories fought for reign in her exhausted mind. “Or without Jacob.”

  Liz curled her legs underneath her on the couch and leaned forward, a gleam of interest replacing the sheen of exhaustion in her eyes. “He has his heroic moments, even outside of the fire department, doesn’t he?”

  “He was a rock.” Marissa swallowed the knot in her throat. “And I hurt him.” She filled Liz in on the details of their parting just a few hours earlier. “I can’t believe I was so harsh. But that kiss …” She briefly closed her eyes. “It terrified me.”

  “Because it showed you your feelings?” Liz asked.

  Marissa slowly shook her head. “Because it proved what I already knew.”

>   “Don’t leave a girl hanging.” Liz sipped from her own mug of tea. “What’d you know?”

  Marissa took a deep breath, the truth hovering on her lips, unable to be denied. “That I love him.”

  Liz squealed, her tea sloshing dangerously in the cup as she jerked forward and set the mug on a coaster on the coffee table. “I told you!” She cleared her throat in a pathetic attempt to regain her composure. “I mean, I’m glad you finally see it.”

  Marissa plucked at a loose thread in the afghan covering her lap. “Seeing my dad in a hospital bed …” Her voice broke off and she sniffed. “Everything you’ve told me, everything I’ve heard at church recently and known my entire life but was never able to put into practice was suddenly right in front of me. I had a choice to make.”

  Liz nodded for her to go on.

  “I could choose to stay safe and block myself off from the love of my father, because of our past.” Marissa rolled in her lower lip, thinking. “Or I could embrace it and start life again. He was given a second chance, and I’d like to think I was, too, in a different way.” She smiled as a wistful melancholy settled over her weary shoulders. “And after Jacob kissed me, I was staring at the same choice but in Technicolor.”

  “What did you choose?” Liz’s brow furrowed, as if afraid she already knew the answer. “You just said you hurt Jacob. I’m guessing that means you’re still not ready?”

  “My heart says one thing, my head says another.” Marissa stared out the picture window behind the couch at Liz’s backyard stirring to life. A baby bird took a dip in the concrete bath next to the flower beds, and a frog hopped from one stepping stone to another toward the storage shed. Marissa’s father was still in a hospital bed, and the man she’d grown to love despite every attempt not to thought she despised him. Yet the world continued to revolve while she sat on Liz’s couch, dizzy from the revelations of the past twenty-four hours.

  Liz’s soft voice broke the silence. “Then it sounds like you need to decide once and for all who you’re going to listen to.”