Love Burns

by Babette James

  A chill rushed her spine. He’d promised to take things easy. She shouldn’t have left him for two weeks.

  Use your common sense. It’s late. Naturally, he’s tired. Jean, Bettie, and Teo always look after him. He might be their boss, but they’re also good friends. If anything was wrong, they’d act.

  She smiled brightly for him and kissed his wrinkled cheek. “The best.”

  He narrowed his eyes, his bristling white brows drawing together. “You’ve lost weight.”

  She hadn’t, but until she was as plump as a puppy, he’d worry and complain. “It was a very healthy vacation. Lots of fresh fish, swimming, skiing, and fishing. No lasagna or garlic bread. No cannoli or Key Lime pie.”

  Chuckles rolled from him. “Sit down and eat something. Bettie, get Olivia a nice big plate of grouper fingers, coleslaw, and garlic bread.”

  “A small plate. I have to take my bags upstairs.”

  “Eat first.” He nudged her to a barstool and returned behind the bar to make her a vodka and tonic. As always, he waited for her to take a sip, smiled, and leaned against the counter. “The computer is doing strange things, Olivia. It won’t print.”

  “I’ll take a look tomorrow. I warned you, the computer’s old. We need a new one.”

  “That one and me, we’re like old friends.”

  “You learned to use that one. You can learn to use a new one.” She’d done all she could to keep this one limping along.

  “I know, I know. But…”

  “It’s time to let go, Uncle Jake.”

  They both burst into laughter at the same time.

  You, too, Olivia. Just let go. Dave was honest with you. Now you be honest with yourself.

  “So tell me about the trip. Tell me about your friends.”

  She pulled her camera from her purse. “I have great pictures for you this time.”

  He scrolled through the pictures while she shared an edited version of her trip. She kept her voice upbeat and avoided choking up at the pictures of Dave.

  Olivia’s food arrived, Teo hugged her with an exuberant welcome home, and customers kept her uncle busy behind the bar.

  Taking the first bite of luscious garlic bread, she sighed. Home. Some tension drained away.

  Ten months ago, she’d fled here in impulsive desperation, looking to borrow the empty apartment. Uncle Jake had wrapped her in his arms, and her tears and troubles had poured out: R.J.’s infidelity, Dave’s plane crash, her inability to handle Mama and Daddy’s smothering care. He’d steered her into the office, stuffed tissues in her hands, and patted her back until her torrent ended. Then he’d poured her a stiff drink, had her bags carted over to his house, and stuffed her full of his home cooking.

  In the following days, he busied her with waitressing and transforming the gutted apartment into her own home. She took on his bookkeeping, and he began teaching her the business and his recipes. Working in the bar and kitchen had helped her far better than any therapy.

  On his next lull in customers, Uncle Jake scrolled through her photos again. He stopped on the picture of her sitting in Dave’s lap. The pose concealed his scars, and they looked relaxed, happy, and whole.

  “This is the firefighter fellow, right?”

  She sipped at her drink. “Yes, that’s Dave.”

  “Looks like a buddy I had in ’Nam.” He turned off the camera. “I’m glad you had a good time, and I’m glad you’re home.”

  “Me, too, Uncle Jake.”

  This was home. This was her future.

  For the next week, attempting to reclaim her workload from Uncle Jake, nagging him to rest, and being stuffed with his favorite comfort foods every time she turned around left her little time to mope. Uncle Jake’s color and energy level worried her, but when she questioned him, he waved her off.

  “Everything’s copasetic. I’m taking my meds, and the docs said everything’s as good as expected. At my age, the body’s going down the tubes despite the good docs. That’s life, baby girl. You need to stop worrying over me, get out, and live a little.”

  Being busy was the cure, she told herself. She’d chosen to break the rules.

  You make your bed, you sleep in it. Time to move on.

  Her firm mindset held until the day she received Nate’s email and photos. Like an addict, she opened them and saved them to her computer. At the one of Dave holding Ryan and Sam in his lap, she broke, weeping in a crumpled ball.

  Your own fault, not Dave’s. Delete the folder and email, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. He never promised you anything but a good time. You wanted to taste the break-the-rules life.

  Maybe having her first cut-loose fling with someone she knew was the mistake…No, JoAnn was right; deep down she was a one-man woman. Her cut-loose fling had been a headlong fall.

  Live and learn. Stop whining. You’re better than you were before.

  True. Her experiences with Dave had helped her defeat so many doubts life with R.J. had burdened her with, and she could look forward to a new relationship someday with confidence.

  The next morning she shared the new pictures with Uncle Jake. Because she looked happy in the pictures, he was happy, and keeping Uncle Jake happy was all that mattered at the moment, so she reserved her tears for the small hours of night.

  She’d survived R.J.’s betrayals. She could certainly survive Dave’s honesty.

  She focused her energies into learning to run the bar, cooking alongside Uncle Jake, and learning his recipes. She researched for, bought, and set up a new computer and printer for the office. She waitressed and worked behind the bar. She swam every day in Uncle Jake’s pool and fought the memories of swimming with Dave.

  She won her ongoing argument with Uncle Jake and ordered new barstools. Yes, the old 1950s-era barstools had held up, but women liked a cushier seat and a footrest. She also installed purse hooks under the lip of the bar every few seats.

  Therese the Grouch was the first customer to use the new seats and purse hook. She raved happily to Uncle Jake and left a big tip. Old Henry said his creaky bones were delighted, his broad smile crinkling his leathery face into a mass of wrinkles. Uncle Jake popped a split of champagne and told her she was brilliant.

  She socialized with friends and avoided their well-meaning date hookups. She told Kay, JoAnn, and Patti everything was great. She told Mama and Daddy she was happy.

  Who’d ever have guessed she’d become so good at lying?

  Chapter Twelve

  Dave weathered the job hunt dead ends, insomnia, and nightmares for a month. Trent gave him plenty of hours at the Dos Arboles, but even work wasn’t distracting enough.

  Facing the need to find a substitute for running or go back to the shrink and the pills, he put a hold on his mail, told Trent, “Thanks, but sorry,” gave Bruno the keys, threw some gear in the truck, and headed for the highway. Driving would have to serve. He’d always promised himself to see Alaska when it wasn’t burning.

  As he headed into Oregon, he found himself cutting across to the coast. Apparently, he was stopping in to see Nate and Kay. Okay.

  He stopped at the top of their driveway. A classy carved and painted sign beside the mailbox read “Quinn-Browning Studios ~ Fine Art & Photography.” The hillside yard no longer held a dense jungle of feral weeds. Kay’s touch showed everywhere in the serene landscaping. Nate’s touch showed in the bright splashes of glazed ceramics and flowers.

  Below in the open garage, Nate stood by a pair of sawhorses, measuring a long strip of molding. He looked up, let the tape zip into the case, and waved.

  Dave released a slow breath and rolled down the drive to park beside Nate’s white pickup.

  Grinning broadly, Nate strode up. “Hey, pal! This is a surprise.”

  “Yeah. I was headed north and thought I’d say hi on my way.” Dave stepped stiffly from the truck, achy from over six hours of driving without taking enough breaks to stretch.

  Nate nodded, as if this was normal. “Kay just ran to the store.
Got time to sit and hang with a beer?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got time.” Nothing but.

  Nate led him through the utility room into the new kitchen.

  Dave scanned the room. “I see Kay won the great flooring and backsplash debate. Kitchen looks real good.”

  The formerly butt-ugly space was now a peaceful bright room with American Craftsman-style cherry cabinets, granite counter tops, brushed stainless steel appliances, and clean expanse of sand-colored tile. Cheerful pops of color from accent tiles, stained glass, scatter rugs, and keepsakes from Nate’s travels added a fun kick to the serene space.

  “We chewed over the choices on the drive home, ordered the next day, and lucked into a quick install date. She likes tile, and I like her happy. We just hooked up the appliances yesterday.” Nate grinned and pulled two beers from the fridge. “It was a pleasure stripping off the last of that avocado and silver foil wallpaper.”

  Dave twisted off the cap and raised his bottle. “Here’s to light at the end of the renovation chaos tunnel.”

  Nate tapped bottles with him. “Hell, yeah, and amen.”

  They both took long swallows of beer.

  “What are you working on? Molding, I saw. Which room?”

  “Finishing touches on the former bordello bathroom. Come on, I’ll show you the new improved version.”

  Stripped of its red-flocked wallpaper, faux marble, and gilt rococo fixtures, the guest bathroom now boasted clean white porcelain and tile, pastel wallpaper that reminded him of water ripples over sand, and an elegant verdigris light fixture above the mirror.

  “Let me give you a hand with the moldings.”

  “Thanks! Have I ever said how much I hate coping? I remember everything Lloyd’s dad taught me, but shit, do you know how many corners this house has?” Nate chuckled. “After the house is done, if I never see a coping saw again, it’ll be too soon.”

  “Should’ve asked Lloyd to drag his butt over here to help you.”

  “If he wasn’t swamped, I would have. He helped install the studio cabinets, and without him, I’d still be working on them. I swear there isn’t a plumb wall in this place.”

  “The joys of old houses.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you love it.” Guilt tugged at Dave. His accident had interrupted the beginning of Nate and Kay’s marriage and massively hindered their renovation plans. Time Nate should have spent with Kay had been spent looking after Dave.

  His formerly footloose friend grinned like a kid at Christmas. “Oh, yeah. Settling my ass down with Kay was the best decision of my life.”

  “Okay, let’s get this done.”

  Between the two of them, the measuring, cutting, and nailing went like clockwork, and they finished just as Kay ran in the door.

  “Dave! What are you doing here?” She grabbed him in a spirited hug. “This the best surprise!”

  He made his excuses about heading north and only stopping by for a quick hello.

  However, where Nate had shrugged with understanding, Kay shot him a no-nonsense blue stare. “It’s senseless to leave and stay at a motel tonight, when you can start out fresh from here in the morning. No argument. Go get your stuff. There’s a sofa bed in the family room and the downstairs bathroom is finished.”

  He gave in. Not like he had a deadline to meet.

  When he’d settled his stuff and headed upstairs, Kay and Nate were whispering together in the living room.

  “I’ll get it.” Kay darted off.

  Nate grinned and shrugged. “Want another beer? We can channel surf until the game starts.”

  “Sure.”

  “Make yourself at home.”

  A mix of furniture he recognized from Nate’s parents’ house and Kay’s place in Tucson filled the half-renovated living room. A large flat-screen television dominated one wall between a display of Kay’s paintings and Nate’s photos. “Nice television.”

  “An anniversary present from Mom and Dad. Dad was tired of watching his golf on my dinky set when he visits, and Mom was in favor of anything that keeps Dad sitting for more than thirty seconds.”

  “I always wondered how two busy bees like your parents produced such a lazy ass as yourself.”

  Nate barked out a deep laugh. “My slo mo developed out of sheer exhaustion from being around them.”

  He returned carrying three beers, a bag of chips, and bowl of guacamole. “And as you can see, they donated half their house of stuff. Mom used our needing furniture as an excuse to redecorate.”

  Kay peeked around the corner. “Nate? I’m set.” She stepped into the room, her blue eyes anxious, and offered Dave a long skinny box wrapped in glittery green paper and topped with a gold bow. “Hope you don’t mind getting your present a couple months early.”

  Nate grinned and set the beer and snacks on the coffee table. “So happy birthday. We hope you like it.”

  Now what? Underneath the bright paper was plain brown cardboard. He popped the lightly-taped box flaps and gently shook out the foam sheeting wrapped contents: a sturdy wooden cane.

  But no ordinary cane. Carved, inlaid, and made of exotic woods Dad would have known in an instant, the cane was a freaking piece of art. He stroked the glowing finish. Whoever’d crafted this piece loved wood as much as Dad had. “It’s…it’s incredible. Wow, thank you.”

  Kay and Nate released held breaths, as if they’d worried he’d be insulted. He hated the need for a cane, but how could he be insulted by anything these two did for him? He owed them more than he could ever repay.

  Kay’s words streamed in a nervous rush, “Our friend, a sculptor, he does canes sometimes. I can’t believe the timing. He dropped it off yesterday, and here you are! We knew your height, and your hand and Nate’s are the same size, but if it’s not right, he said no problem.”

  Of course, Kay would know that odd detail. He took several experimental strides. The grip fit his hand and the length was perfect. He studied the cane in the kitchen’s clear lighting and discovered the subtle design winding over the crook was a trout rising from the water. “I don’t know what to say, except thank you. It’s awesome.” Dave hugged Kay.

  “I’m so glad.”

  He turned to Nate.

  “Not planning to hug me, are you?” Nate grinned.

  “Hell, no.” Dave offered his hand, but the moment Nate shook his hand, Dave sucker-tugged him into a hard hug and slap on the back. They broke into laughter.

  The doorbell rang, followed by the whispering creak of the front door.

  “Hello! Sorry I’m late,” a woman called out.

  A petite blonde walked through the living room archway carrying a bulging grocery bag.

  “Hey, Faith. You’ve got the food, so you’re perfectly on time.” Nate took the bag from Faith. “I’ll get you a beer.”

  “Faith, this is Dave Knight, who totally surprised us with his visit. He’s joining us for supper. Dave, our neighbor, Faith Kelley. Faith lives in that gray house across the road, and she owns the best bakery in town.”

  He shook hands. “Hi, good to meet you. Those cookies were great.”

  “Thanks. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  Faith wore a wedding band, and her cautious smile and wary brown eyes reminded him of JoAnn years ago, but she relaxed as they prepared supper. She shared stories of her daughter’s antics in preschool the past week, but she never mentioned a husband.

  They ate Faith’s homemade sausage, peppers, and onion pizza with Kay’s salad, followed by apple cake for dessert, while they lazed on the sectional sofa and watched the ballgame, cheering and groaning.

  Dave kicked back, raising the footrest. Kay was right. No hurry to get to Alaska, and how often did he get to hang with his friends? He shut his eyes, ignoring the commercial. After years of always rushing, he’d learn to take things easier.

  The dream started the same: the marina, the heat, the anger and the pain, his resolve to send Livie off to the better lif
e she deserved. But this time, she called his name one more time. This time, he turned around. This time, he took the steps back, and this time, he followed her to Vegas…

  She dissolved from his arms.

  Dave lurched awake to find himself alone in the dark, a blanket tucked around him, and scratching clock ticks filling the quiet. Where? He blinked blurred eyes. Right, Nate and Kay’s.

  Dream fragments and real memories of Livie in his arms and the sweet rush and the crashing depression slammed together. He’d done the right thing for Livie. That’s what mattered.

  Dave didn’t leave as planned. Telling himself he was letting Kay guilt him into visiting for one more night and repaying them for the cane and all their selfless help, he threw himself into helping Nate with the carpentry chores.

  One day became two and then three. Nate and Kay stopped asking him to take it easy and let him plow through the work, kept him set with water and beer, fed him, and stayed out of his way during the day. In the evening, exhaustion made him near sociable again, and they’d have supper in front of the TV, watch a baseball game, and he’d fall asleep and wake to the dark quiet house and his two o’clock in the morning insomnia.

  The fourth morning, he woke at dawn, nerves crawling. Time to hit the road.

  Nate and Kay fed him breakfast, filled his cooler with sandwiches and his Thermos with coffee and, after a fierce hug from Kay, waved him on his way north.

  ****

  A month was too long to hibernate, and Livie finally surrendered to Bettie’s plea for a girls’ night out on the coming Saturday. Uncle Jake said yes to a night off so fast, Bettie must have already asked.

  However, Bettie and Krissy arrived Saturday afternoon dressed more for a beach day than a shopping and movie night.

  “Aren’t we going to the movies?” Olivia scooped up the last stack of filing and dropped the mess in the wire basket to finish tomorrow.

  The concept of bookmarking web pages or saving data to the hard drive escaped Uncle Jake, and he’d printed out another ream of emails, pictures, articles, coupons, and whatnot. He’d always be an old-fashioned hands-on man and wanted paper copies.