Love Burns

by Babette James

  Still, the kitchen felt so wrong without Uncle Jake.

  As always after closing, she walked with Uncle Jake to his front door. He acted his old peppy self, as if they hadn’t had that scare.

  “Uncle Jake…” Her voice failed her, and she hugged him.

  “I’m fine, Olivia. Just forgot my pills. I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

  “I worry.”

  “I don’t want you worrying. When my time comes, it’ll come. I just hope I’ll be at my stove with wine in my glass, not wasting away in a hospital bed. Now, you get some sleep. No more worries.” He kissed her forehead and stepped inside.

  Torn, she headed home. A grocery bag leaned against her door filled with coffee, cereal, sugar…and four apples.

  She swallowed against the rush of tears and memories and lifted the sack. Soft guitar notes emanated from his apartment, starting and stopping, and the same notes beginning again.

  Dave was playing.

  Pinned in place by the rich, wordless lament, she shut her eyes. Tears rose, and her throat tightened. On and on he played, solemn and bluesy and complicated.

  Pain in her fingers from the sack straps stirred her. His apartment was quiet. How long had she stood there lost in longing? Unnerved, she slipped into her apartment, and slumped heavily against the door, the sack sliding from her fingers as fresh tears burned her cheeks.

  ****

  Over the next several days, a heavy need to sleep knocked Dave flat like a hurricane, and his music consumed his waking hours with a vengeance. He’d play guitar, scribble notes like a crazy man, sleep hard, dream of Livie and music, wake, eat, play, unload music onto paper, and crash into sleep again.

  On the fourth day Dave woke, if not rested, finally not grindingly exhausted.

  He’d come to a decision. He was staying until Livie and he’d worked out this thing between them. That polite cool distance of the other day was unacceptable.

  Time to prove himself to her—and to himself.

  He opened his laptop, and after waiting through endless updates, popped online and shot off an email to Nate and Lloyd letting them know he was alive and in Florida, and quickly shut down, ignoring the overflowing inbox.

  Showered, shaved, and dressed, he knocked on Livie’s door. No answer. He headed downstairs and let himself in through the kitchen.

  Jake gave a stir to the large pot at the stove and replaced the lid. Dave’s stomach growled at the savory scents.

  “How’re you doing?” The old man furrowed his brows.

  “Better. Did some sleeping. Some thinking.”

  “Good.” Jake pulled a pitcher of murky greenish liquid from the fridge. He poured two glasses and handed one to Dave. “Drink up.” He drank half his glass, and waited, sharp eyes on Dave.

  Dave took a swallow. Some veggie-fruit mystery combo. Not bad, just strange. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate your letting me stay. I wanted to talk to you about rent—”

  Jake waved dismissively. “Don’t need your money.”

  “I want to earn my keep. I bartend in the off-season, and I’m handy with tools. I can give you references.” A useless offer. A small place like this didn’t need more employees.

  Jake nodded, a calculating look sharpening his eyes. “Okay. Finish that juice. We’ve got a faucet to repair in the ladies’ room. Pick a shirt from the case for working the bar tomorrow. Jeans or khakis are fine.” He winked. “I’ll take the shirt out of your first check.”

  A wiry young Hispanic man wearing a chef’s apron pushed through the kitchen door.

  Jake gave a warm grin. “Hey, Teo, this is Dave. He’s working with us now. Make sure he eats.”

  “Hi, Dave. Welcome.”

  “Teo’s my right-hand man here in the kitchen, but he’s leaving us next year. Got into a high-class culinary school. He’ll be a hotshot chef one of these days.” Jake’s proud smile over-shone his casual teasing.

  “All thanks to you, Jake.”

  “You did the work. I just nagged you along.”

  “He’s good at that. So watch out. Nag, nag, nag.” Teo laughed. “So, Dave, what do you like to eat?”

  Dave grinned, considering the widely varied meals he’d eaten over the years at fires and camping. “Food.”

  Teo laughed. “We’ve got that covered.”

  The kitchen door swung open, and Livie wandered in, focused on the sheaf of papers in her hand. “Uncle Jake, do you think we should—” She spotted Dave and froze, her expression mixed.

  Jake grinned, his sharp eyes softening for his niece. “Hey, baby girl. Put Dave on the payroll starting today. He’ll be helping us out around the place.”

  “Ah…Sure.” She shot Jake a wide-eyed questioning look. She jotted down Dave’s information for the records and disappeared.

  He downed his mystery juice. Staying was the right decision, but he faced an uphill battle. She might have said stay, without the meaning he found in her word. They’d be near each other twenty-four/seven. Would that help or hurt?

  “Done? Good stuff. Olivia got me a juicer last Christmas. Follow me.”

  Jake led him into a utility room crammed with the water heater, washer and dryer, workbench, tools, and cleaning equipment. Jake grabbed the boxed faucet set off the workbench. “Grab that blue toolbox on the shelf there.”

  Out in the bar, the woman bartender with the salt and pepper hair from the other night was finishing prep and the redheaded waitress he’d met was rolling flatware sets.

  “Morning, ladies. Dave’s working with us now. Need an extra hand, he’s your man. He’ll be behind the bar, too, so I can take things easier, like Olivia’s been nagging me.”

  The redhead beamed. “Great news.”

  “Hi, Dave. Welcome to the family.” The bartender wiped her hands on a towel.

  Jake nodded to his bartender. “Dave, this here’s Jean. She’s been with us twenty years. There’s nothing she doesn’t know about bartending, so any questions, she’s got the answers.”

  Dave shook hands. “Good to meet you, Jean.”

  Jake grinned at the redhead. “And this is Bettie. She and Olivia like to double-team me and nag me on my diet.”

  “Only because we love you.” Bettie blew Jake a kiss.

  Jake raised the faucet box. “We’re fixing that danged faucet today.”

  “Yay!” Jean and Bettie high-fived.

  Like all plumbing jobs in an old building, the replacement took extra time, some curses, and a run to the utility room for a new shut-off valve, but they had the sink working by opening.

  After that, Jake sat him at the bar with a hamburger, coleslaw, and sweet potato fries, and during endless casual poker hands, introduced him to the other employees and the regular customers. Jake also gave running lessons on the routines in his place, the menu, the regulars’ preferences, while sprinkling in stories from over the years.

  This might all work. Unlike the Dos Arboles, which was a big sports bar and hook-up joint, Jake’s bar was a comfortable place where locals hung with friends to drink, talk, and eat Jake’s fine cooking. The place showed its age, from the worn wooden furniture and floors to the scarred, shining mahogany bar, but was clean and boasted well-stocked shelves of liquor that leaned toward the classic good stuff.

  Happy hour started hopping, and Jake had Dave join Jean behind the bar.

  Maguire showed up after eight and slid into the corner seat at the bar. He eyed Dave, his gaze flicking from him limping around filling an order of six draft beers to his cane propped in the corner, his expression judging and curious.

  Dave stepped over to take his order. “What can I get you?”

  “A pint of Foster’s, thanks, and I’ll take a burger, with Jake’s broccoli slaw, and a side of garlic bread.”

  He jotted the food order on the ticket pad. “How do you want that burger?”

  “Medium rare. Onion, extra tomato, lettuce.”

  “Got it.” As Bettie passed by he handed off the order, and then poured
Maguire’s beer.

  After a long sip, Maguire gave him another weighing gaze over the rim of his glass. “You were in the service?”

  “Forestry. Smokejumpers. Retired.” A weird twist ran through him at saying retired. He forced a smile. “A little sooner than I planned.”

  “Ah. I’d have guessed a Marine. You remind me of some friends.”

  Dave laughed. He could say the same of Maguire. The man had that military or cop spit and polish posture and eyes like Nate’s brothers who were career Marines. “How about you?”

  “Navy. Finished my twenty and decided it was time to try something new.” Maguire groaned. “Helping out my ornery old cuss of a granddad with the marina wasn’t in the plans. But, family, you know? Got to do what you got to do.”

  The bar got busy again. Maguire took a couple calls while eating his meal, giving frustrated clipped answers. Jean served him another beer. Dave caught Livie peeking from the office once, but she didn’t come out to talk to Maguire.

  Awhile later, Maguire waved him over for another beer. While Dave poured, Maguire nodded at the cane. “Cool stick. So what’s your story?”

  “Plane went down en route to a fire last year.” Dave shrugged. “So time for something new.”

  Maguire’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

  “Yeah, that’s one word for it.” That and a load of other four-letter words. He sucked in a breath and tried for an I’m-cool-with-it-now tone. “Could have been worse.”

  ****

  He was staying, for a while.

  Tossed between stunned and joyous at Uncle Jake’s hiring Dave, Olivia had hidden in the office for most of the day.

  Over the past worrisome days, she’d been so tempted to knock on the door, but quiet listens provided sounds of life in steady snores or practice sessions. The snores were a relief, and the music was incredible. Soft, angry, classical, rock, jazzy, bluesy, familiar melodies from the radio, and unfamiliar stretches that she wondered if he’d composed.

  Of course, by hiding away for hours, she’d caught up on all the paperwork, bookkeeping, and Uncle Jake’s filing pile, and ran out of distracting tasks. She’d have to come out for supper or Uncle Jake would want answers.

  She needed to talk to someone. Not Mama or Daddy. What could she say? I had a vacation affair and fell in love, and he broke my heart, and now he’s working for Uncle Jake, and I’m afraid I might still love him…No, not a good conversation at all.

  She should let Nate and Kay know the news of the day. Dave would hate that she’d been reporting on him, but they were her friends, too, and they’d been worried to pieces. With emotions knotting her throat, chatting on line would be easier than a phone call. She opened her browser. A moment later, an IM from Kay popped up.

  [KBrowningQuinn] Hey. How are you doing? Any news?

  [OliviaABenedetti] Okay. Dave finally came downstairs.

  [KBrowningQuinn] He emailed Nate and Lloyd this morning. We’re so relieved. Well, Nate’s relieved and pissed. He’s been beyond worried. You have no idea how glad we’ve been to hear from you each day. How does he seem?

  Olivia tried picturing the laid-back Nate pissed off and failed. She shook her head as she typed.

  [OliviaABenedetti] Tired, but calmer, more himself. The big news today is Uncle Jake hired him to work here as a handyman and bartender. So he’s staying for a while, until he sorts out what he’s doing next.

  [KBrowningQuinn] Are you okay with that?

  No. Yes. Maybe.

  [OliviaABenedetti] Things are okay here. I can handle it.

  Now if she were only as certain as her words. She needed to find the positives. With Dave here, Uncle Jake might keep his promise to take it easy more often.

  [KBrowningQuinn] Nate’s on the phone. I told him the update. He says thanks.

  [OliviaABenedetti] I’ll keep you posted.

  [KBrowningQuinn] *hugs* Thank you!!! TTYL Got to run.

  Livie slumped, aimlessly deleting junk emails. How was she ever to ignore the churning hope and need and keep her distance?

  No more hiding. She had to eat. She headed for the door.

  Be bold, brave…

  But that could get her hurt again.

  ****

  From that day on, Dave worked every day: busing tables, behind the bar, more plumbing, painting a coat of sealant on the decks, and fixing the raised board on the dock. The days flew by. One week turned into two and counting. He and Livie needed to talk, but she hid in the office or the kitchen, and he kept giving her space. Jake frowned at them and shook his head.

  Dave enjoyed the bartending, the conversations, and the companionship. Never a crush in Jake’s place like the Dos Arboles could get, but busy enough the extra hands lightened the load, leaving Jake free to socialize and cook.

  The work kept him on his feet and drove home he’d been sitting on his ass way too much. While Jake didn’t care if Dave grabbed a seat when he needed to, self-disgust kicked him into serious gear. He swam every day and started kicking his own ass with the PT and exercise he’d let slide. He found a barber, he shaved every day, and he stopped feeling like something a cat hacked up. Crash flashbacks still hit more often than he liked, but he powered through, and he was managing. In his private time, he listened to the music flooding him, poured the notes onto paper, and played.

  When Livie wasn’t around, Jake shared rambling off-hand stories about her childhood summer visits and her parents. Jake adored Livie like a daughter. Dave listened avidly and learned.

  Maguire stopped in often. Dave couldn’t help liking the guy. He was friendly and liked to talk over the ball games. Livie and Maguire seemed to be just close friends. Livie hadn’t been out with Maguire, or any guy, but she brightened at his every visit. Maguire’s granddad was something else. Salt, piss, and beyond vinegar. Hydrochloric acid. Working for him, no wonder Maguire needed to drink.

  Another Thursday night rolled around. Dave was bartending, and the crowd was light. Jake had chased Livie off for a couple hours to have dinner with a friend who was in town.

  Jake set two steak dinners on the bar. “Pull up your stool and dig in.” He poured two cabernets and hitched himself onto the barstool. He winked. “No telling Olivia about the steak or the fries, right?”

  Dave dug into the rare porterhouse, broccoli rabe, and steak fries between serving customers. The man could cook.

  Jake had finished half his meal when he sighed and fixed his gaze on Dave. “I’ve been thinking. Olivia’s been on me to try new stuff. Nothing major to change the place, just good ideas for bringing in new customers. I heard you’re kinda handy with a guitar. Why don’t you bring it down next Friday night, and we’ll see if the folks like music with their drinks.”

  A week from tomorrow? He hadn’t done a paying gig in over a year. Dave drew a long breath. “What kind of music? Rock, country, blues, oldies?”

  Jake scratched his chin. “Hard to say. This has always been a drinking, talking, and eating joint. Sooo, I’d say, whatever that won’t put people off drinking, ruin their appetite, or put them to sleep, how’s that?” He grinned. “If they boo, it’s a no. If they clap and want more, it’s a keeper. Keep our options wide open.”

  “Okay. One night.” Dave wanted to grab back his blurted words, but he held out his hand to Jake. Honestly, what would one night hurt?

  Grinning broadly, Jake shook his hand. “Can’t wait to tell Olivia.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  On Saturday morning, Dave committed fully to the gig and brought his guitar downstairs for a practice run. With Jake and Teo cooking in the kitchen and Livie working in the office, this was as private as he could expect.

  He studied the bar and dining areas. No space set aside for performing. No dance floor. No PA system. Too bad all his sound equipment was in California. Oh, well, he’d been considering upgrading his system. Guess the time was now. He’d hunt down the necessary equipment and do this gig right.

  The wall beneath the blue tang had a conv
enient power outlet and looked to be the best spot to set up.

  Dave let his hands and mind fall into tuning and an aimless and relaxing warm-up. He shut his eyes, listening to how the sound played the room. This guitar wasn’t the fanciest or most expensive he owned, but she was durable, traveled well, forgiving over weather extremes, and her lush voice rang true for him to his soul.

  He wandered into a Mason Williams tune he’d always loved. “Classical Gas” was one of the pieces that had caught his imagination when he was a kid and drawn him to the guitar.

  What if he’d followed his heart in college and declared in music rather than biology? Bio had been easy and interesting, and yeah, he should have applied himself more, but he was already dedicated to firefighting and none of the post-graduation options had interested his adrenaline-junkie side. Then he’d gotten into the smokejumpers. Composing had faded to a sporadic hobby, and the guitar playing sidelined to easy off-season money.

  What might his parents have thought about his footloose life?

  He shook his head. Probably be as confused by him now as they’d been then. Losing them, losing the chance of confronting them, of building some connection—Water under the bridge. Not everyone was cut out to be parents.

  As for the last time he’d followed his heart in a relationship? He’d made mistakes with Tess. The truth was clear. He hadn’t loved Tess all the way, hadn’t fought for her love all the way.

  So where was he with Livie? This was different from Tess. Everything was different with Livie.

  As he mulled the options facing him, his fingers wandered through chords, the peace of playing stole into him, and Classical Gas segued into Bach and B.B. King and Metallica and into his own slow, flamenco-inspired piece, driving his memories to making love to Livie under the desert stars.

  He finished, and stared at his fingers resting on the strings. If only decisions were as simple as choosing chords. Getting into a relationship while his life was so unsettled was idiotic, but not trying…

  “That was wonderful.”

  Feeling rawly exposed, he swallowed and looked up. Livie perched on a barstool, softly smiling. How long had she been listening?