“Poppy?”
“Hi, River. This is my husband Jameson and his brother Austin, one of the guys who helped build these bungalows. I guessed that you probably didn’t have anyone to help move your stuff inside, so I nominated them.”
“More like forced,” one of the men grumbled as he grabbed the distinctive trailer keys off the hook beside the door and turned toward the moving truck.
“We’ll get started,” the tall man that gazed affectionately at Poppy said before joining his brother.
“This was really nice of you. I appreciate all of the help.”
As Poppy sat her bag on the floor, she said, “Well, get used to it. Everyone is going to find a way to come to help you, but really, they just want to know any gossip.”
“Gossip? What kind?”
“Any, you’re the new girl after all. I’m so glad it’s no longer me.”
River watched in a drunken-like haze as Poppy spun daintily on her toes and exited the house just as quickly as she came, completely left wondering what had just happened.
Chapter Three
The brick colonial looked exactly as Ridge had remembered. Though large and stately, there was a warmth that emanated from each solid block. This was a house filled with love.
The summers he spent here with his cousins were some of his best memories. Taking the dares to climb the ominous oak tree in the front yard leaving him with his first of many broken bones, his first kiss with local girl Misty Calhoun, and his uncle Joseph taking him to fight a small brush fire when he was sixteen only for his uncle to jump on scene fifteen minutes later to a car accident where he fought to save the farmhand’s life. That was the moment that Ridge knew without a shadow of a doubt he wanted to be a firefighter like his uncle. It was more than just battling the flames; it was saving lives.
There were certain expectations when you were a fireman in a small town that didn’t have its own emergency rescue department; you became the savior for all. It was a task Ridge prayed he was up for. But it had been almost five years since he had been back in Carson and things certainly could have changed. He knew only the Main Street of the town looked the same; everything else surrounding the small community had blossomed and flourished. State of the art structures made of glass were erected next to buildings centuries-old.
From the back seat of his truck Delilah began to fuss and Ridge knew that he had spent too much time dawdling on the street in front of his aunt and uncle’s house. Slowly he pulled his vehicle into the driveway that looked to have been freshly paved. He didn't recognize two other vehicles in addition to the beat-up pickup truck and large SUV he knew belonged to his aunt and uncle.
Parking behind Joseph’s truck, Ridge hurried around the vehicle and lifted his daughter out of her car seat and her bag of things, the one-year-old nuzzling her head into his neck. He knew that he was cutting it very close to her afternoon nap time. Ridge only hoped that Aunt Amy might have a safe place where he could lay her down until he could set up a room for her.
Ridge made out a few flower pots on the porch that had little hand prints painted across the fronts, and then the wooden sign welcoming guests that had the handprints of his cousins. He smiled, remembering how his Aunt Amy had insisted he place his hand in the black paint and leave his mark as well, even though he wasn’t one of their children. Amy and Joseph had never made him seem like the ugly step-child, well cousin, whenever his parents dropped him off for the summers.
Just as Ridge lifted his hand to ring the doorbell, the red door opened with a whoosh, alarming both Ridge and the petite female on the other side.
“Oh!” she cried out in exclaim, raising her hand to her chest as if having a heart attack.
“Sorry. I, um, I’m looking for Joseph or Amy,” Ridge said, embarrassed as his voice cracked like he was fifteen-years-old.
“Mom!” the woman shouted over her shoulder, gesturing with her other hand for Ridge to step inside.
“I’ll be right there, Poppy. Let me get the brownies in the oven.”
At the mention of the chocolaty goodness, Delilah lifted her head from Ridge’s shoulder and glanced around the room.
“Oh my, aren’t you just the cutest thing,” the red-headed woman said, stepping closer to Ridge, holding out her hand to the toddler who stared at the out-stretched appendage before gripping it in her own. “My name is Poppy. What’s your name?”
“This is Delilah. She’s one and usually not good with strangers.”
“Well, Ms. Delilah, it’s nice to meet you. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you around a lot.”
Ridge looked up just as footsteps approached from the back of the foyer. “Dear, who is at the door?” Amy asked before looking up in shock. The dishtowel she was wiping her hands with stopped in midair as her eyes widened in surprise.
“Oh my stars, are you really here?” Amy asked in awe as she rushed forward, placing both of her hands gently on his cheeks.
“Hi, Aunt Amy,” Ridge replied sheepishly. Delilah squirmed in his arms and reached for the woman that had been more of a mother figure to him than his own mother.
“Joseph,” she screeched as she rushed forward and wrapped her petite frame around himself and Delilah, who giggled as Amy placed wet kisses on both of their cheeks. He towered over his aunt, but that didn’t stop her from reaching up and forcing his head downward.
A booming voice called out from the entrance of the foyer and Ridge glanced over and was surprised. The man he remembered from five years ago at his last visit wasn’t the same man approaching them. This man appeared worn and tired and deliriously happy. Not that his uncle hadn’t always had a smile on his face, but this was one of pure contentment.
“My boy,” the older man said as Amy unfurled herself from around Ridge, allowing him to hold out his hand for his Uncle Joseph. “It’s been too long.”
Ridge felt the urge to apologize and didn’t suppress it as the words sputtered from his lips. He knew he was the reason that they hadn’t seen him in so long. The downfall of his quickie marriage had been too much of an embarrassment.
“And now, who is this little gem?”
“Aunt Amy and Uncle Joseph, this is my daughter Delilah, and we were hoping that maybe we could stay here for a little while.”
Ridge idled the truck in the driveway of the house that he now held the keys for. A place that his cousin, Jameson, and his wife, Poppy, gleefully offered to rent to him until he could get himself settled.
Things weren’t going as Ridge had planned. First, his aunt and uncle explained that their grandchildren now occupied their house's extra rooms for when they visited. Amy settled him into a twin bed for the night until he could figure out what to do for him and Delilah, that was after Amy had chewed him out for not calling ahead of time. Despite the fitful night of sleep, Ridge had awoken to a plan, only to have it derailed when the attractive redhead from the day before arrived at the house with his cousin and a set of keys dangling in his hands. Jameson had explained how they had purchased the older neighborhood as an investment property since he had billions to spare as a software developer and his brother Austin was working on renovating each bungalow.
Ridge hated handouts and this was what their generosity had felt like, but he also knew that his options were extremely limited. He knew without a doubt that he wanted to raise Delilah in the town of Carson, especially if he planned to fight for custody of his daughter should her mother come around again. Ridge could only hope that he wouldn’t have to relocate them both back to California. Their divorce and custody agreement had no location contingency so long as the other party didn’t oppose it. Ridge assumed that the letter he found from his ex-wife would be evidence enough. He’d have to research a lawyer in town or close-by soon, just to be safe.
With a quick glance around the quaint neighborhood, something deep inside Ridge settled into place. This was a good thing. The houses were small, but each one looked a bit different from its neighbor. The only house that looked simi
lar to Ridge’s was the house across the street. Both were cream-colored with dark green shutters, but where the house across the street had more of a coastal feel with some cedar shakes around the upper window, Ridge’s house had a craftsman design on the porch columns.
Taking a deep breath, Ridge pulled the truck and trailer into the driveway, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned off the ignition.
“Alright, sweat pea, ready to see our new house?” he asked as he unlatched his seatbelt. From her car seat, Delilah began to kick her little legs and clapped. “Da! Da!”
As he gathered his daughter in his arms, Ridge looked up at the sky as the approaching storm clouds hovered close by. Thunder sounded off in the distance and he knew that he didn’t have much time to get their belongings inside the house before the late season. Ridge only hoped that the storm wasn’t an omen of what was to come in his life.
With one last glance at his truck, Ridge dashed into the house that would now be his home for the unforeseeable future. Quickly he hurried through the living room that was open to the kitchen area at the back of the house and ducked his head into the two bedrooms. The smallest of the two would be perfect for Delilah.
Adjusting his hold of her, Ridge went back out to the living room and placed Delilah on the floor with her favorite stuffed animal. She was good at entertaining herself, so Ridge hoped that she would stay occupied for the next few minutes until he could grab the octagonal gate that would keep her in place while he set up her crib. It was nearing nap time and Ridge knew that she was inching toward her fussy phase.
“Alright, sweetheart, I’m going out to the truck really quick. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Delilah answered in the only way she knew how, with a loud squeal. “Da!”
Ridge got his daughter situated with the baby gate as quickly as possible and then went to work on her crib so that he could get her down for a nap. He didn’t consider himself an expert, but he was pretty impressed with himself and his ability to set up the crib by himself in fifteen minutes flat.
Delilah must have known that he was in a hurry because she zonked out the moment her head hit the crib. Ridge stared down at his brown-haired beauty as her lips puckered while in dream-state. She was his now. His to love and care for full-time, and somehow he was going to have to figure out how to manage a job with her care.
His uncle had readily accepted his offer to work at the Carson Fire Department, but they needed to iron out a schedule. Ridge knew that it was a pipe dream to shoot for a typical nine to five shift. Those just didn’t exist for first responders. But he hoped that he would be able to be home for his daughter more than he had been in Sunnyville.
Thinking of his old turf, Ridge wondered what his friend Grady was up to and if he had officially taken his girlfriend Dylan off the market. Ridge knew that he could have asked any of the Malone’s for help with his ex-wife’s situation, but her problems weren’t common knowledge. And, truthfully, he may have been a bit embarrassed. He still had no leads from the detective he had been working with on her whereabouts and Ridge had begun losing hope. Maybe it was time to bring in a private detective, someone that didn’t have to answer to the law necessarily.
Sighing, Ridge stepped out onto the porch and wondered how he was going to lift all of the heavy items, like his couch and the beds, into the house. But his question was quickly answered when the clouds opened up and a torrential downpour fell onto the town of Carson. Thank goodness he had the forethought to cover everything in tarps before he left California.
He stood for a moment admiring the sway of the trees from the wind and the musical spatter of the rain on the porch roof. He absolutely planned to go into town and find a set of rocking chairs so that he could sit back and enjoy the showers with Delilah snoozing on his lap in the future.
Across the street, he watched a small car maneuver into the driveway of the house that matched his own. He laughed to himself as the car idled in its spot, the driver most likely wondering how to avoid the thunderstorm. Ridge squinted to get a better view through the rain and surprise overtook him as the trunk popped open, drenching whatever was nestled inside.
A small woman with an even smaller umbrella emerged from the car just as the wind picked up. As expected, the flimsy material couldn’t hold its own against the wind gusts and flipped inside out just as the driver shut the door to her car. Ridge could feel her frustration snaking through her body as she threw her umbrella aside and stomped toward the trunk of her car. Paper bags. The first bag she pulled free was a measly paper bag.
Ridge barely hesitated, only enough to double-check the baby monitor attached at his hip and grab his gray hooded sweatshirt from just inside the front door. The rain was coming down at a torrential pace as he lifted the hood over his head and dashed across the street to help his neighbor. Just as he reached her, the now soaked bags held tightly in her arms gave way and the contents spilled out on the driveway.
“Shit!” the woman shouted as she bent down and began to gather the produce that had scattered about.
“Here, let me help you.” Ridge could hardly hear his own voice over the pounding of the storm, but in the way the woman stiffened as he knelt beside her, she’d absolutely heard his shout.
Using the lower half of his sweatshirt, Ridge began piling the items into the makeshift holder as the woman gathered as much as she could into her arms. Together they scrambled in the rain to collect as many items as possible before rushing up to the covered porch. He watched as the small woman struggled to unlock the front door with a shivering hand before finally jabbing the key into the lock.
Just as the door swung open, a cackling noise sounded from his hip, barely loud enough to hear over the pounding rain, but Ridge’s instincts were on high alert. In a manner his aunt Amy would call him out on, Ridge stormed into the house, not even taking a moment to look at the sparse décor, and walking into the adjacent kitchen. The contents in his hoodie poured out into the kitchen sink with a flourish and Ridge didn’t waste any time turning around and heading back toward the door. He brushed against the woman that stood stock-still just inside her house, watching his every move. Ridge couldn’t deny the hint of awareness as his arm brushed against hers, but he didn’t have time to question or savor that feeling. He hardly had the chance to gaze into the haunted and confused blue eyes that stared at him. Instead, he stalked back out into the rain storm and hurried across the street to his daughter, who was waking herself up with small cries. Ridge knew that those toddler tears would escalate to a full out tantrum if he didn’t get to her soon.
He had been learning Delilah’s patterns over the last couple of days and recognized the combination of hunger and unfamiliarity in her whimper.
“Hey, sweet girl,” he cooed as he stepped into the empty house, knowing he should spend the next few hours bringing his things into the home despite the torturous rain. But as his daughter stood with her arms stretched out toward him, Ridge knew the next few hours would be spent keeping an eye on his precious girl. Thank goodness he had the forethought to pack a few books and toys into the diaper bag that sat on the floor by the door.
“It’s just you and me, kiddo,” he told her as she snuggled her soft cheek against his. And wasn’t that the truth in this entire situation. The daughter his ex had tried so painstakingly hard to keep from him was now completely his responsibility. He only hoped that he didn’t screw it up.
***
The ground was saturated from the rain that hadn’t let up the day before. Showers had fallen through the night, which had only kept River awake, and she was now paying dearly for it. Despite her few years of living on her own, she had never felt as if she was truly by herself. There was always a neighbor and thin wall of an apartment, a boyfriend that mooched off her living arrangement, or the small house she shared with her grandmother. But the house in Carson was new and she was seriously going to need to adjust to the changes.
Asheville was a big city compared to the tiny town
in which she now resided, made especially clear when, even with the sound of the rainwater, River couldn’t make out the noises of traffic or neighbors. She was certain that if she kept the windows open on a clear evening, she would hear crickets chirping.
The buzzer on her state-of-the-art oven went off and River jumped up from her couch where she had been watching mindless reality show drivel on the television. The mystery man from the day before had plagued her throughout the night. He had quickly come to her aid as the paper bags from the store had torn apart the moment water had met the material, but he left just as quickly, not even giving her the chance to thank him.
His face has been covered in shadows from his soaked hoodie, but she was confident that he was a good-looking guy and well muscled. The sleeves of his hoodie had been pulled tight against his arms, a feature that was made evident when he brushed up against her in his haste to leave her house.
At first, River had been confused and almost hurt that he had dashed away so quickly. It took only depositing the contents she had carried in her arms into the sink that she saw a quick glimpse of herself in the glass of the window. Appalled wasn’t strong enough of a word to describe how she felt at her appearance. Her dark hair was matted against her face, strands covering most of her cheeks and eyes. She wasn’t at all surprised he had run once she took a better glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror in her oversized clothes and the outward appearance of a drowned rat. Hell, she’d run from herself too.
But she needed to thank him. River’s grandmother always expressed that manners mattered, even if the recipient didn’t earn them.
The smell of freshly baked cookies filled the kitchen as she opened the oven door, the familiar scent wafting across River’s nose as she carefully pulled the pan free and placed it on the cooling rack. The smell made her homesick. She missed her life in Asheville. The private school she had worked so tirelessly to earn a spot teaching at. The crazy neighbors that never looked down their noses at her grandmother when she began to have episodes. The afternoons spent relaxing on the back porch of their small house with a glass of lemonade while her grandmother tended the garden. These were all now just distant memories. The chocolate chip cookie recipe was one her grandmother had taught her from the moment River was strong enough to stir the batter. By now, she knew it by heart and knew that people went crazy for them. It was award-winning in the city of Asheville, after all.
Behind the Flame: An Everyday Heroes World Book (The Everyday Heroes World) Page 3