Fireman Dad Page 8

  “I hope so. I don’t want people to think we’re trying to pull off a Fourth of July celebration in May.” Marissa frowned. Maybe she should have stuck with something simpler, like a flower theme. Or pastels to represent spring.

  Liz shook her head. “Firemen are heroes of our country, just like people in the military. Red, white and blue is the perfect reminder of that.”

  Jacob tapped the box with one finger. “Where do you want these? I’m assuming not on the middle of your desk for another two weeks.” He grinned, and Marissa’s stomach flipped as it had yesterday when Jacob spent most of the day with her and Liz, helping with fundraiser details and last-minute party plans. He’d done everything from printing princess-themed coloring pages from a website online to tying ribbons around individual goody bags for each party guest. Not to mention he fielded several phone calls about the fundraiser from master gardeners, and double-checked to make sure his lawn service employees were on schedule to finish prepping his yard for the festival next week. As much as Jacob’s proximity reminded her of what she couldn’t have, he—and his sister-in-law—had been a big help the past few days. Unfortunately, once Marissa’s shock and anger about Jacob’s secret faded, she’d had nothing left to protect her heart from falling even harder.

  Jacob stared at her, waiting for an answer, and Marissa quickly shook her head. “Sorry. Lots to think about.” She avoided his questioning eyes, hoping he wouldn’t assume the truth—that she was thinking about him. But she felt his steady gaze on her face as she looked at the box of pinwheels. “We can store these in the back room, wherever there’s space. This close to the festival, it’s going to be a madhouse around here.”

  “As you wish.” Jacob toted the box down the short hall to the storage room at the back of the shop.

  Liz turned to Marissa, her hands clasped in front of her. “I can’t tell you how excited Olivia is about her party next Saturday. She keeps practicing a curtsy in front of my full-length mirror. I keep telling her it’s still a week away, but you know kids.”

  “I’m glad.” Marissa hoped Liz hadn’t noticed her watching Jacob walk away. She tried to focus. “I think everything is almost set for her big day.”

  “And I’ll be on my days off from the station, so I’ll be there to help.” Jacob returned, dusting his hands on his jeans.

  Great. She meant that both sarcastically and sincerely, if that were possible. She enjoyed his company, but that was becoming the problem. They were together too much for her to guard her heart. Marissa couldn’t keep up with Jacob’s fire department schedule, and, she had to admit to herself, she hadn’t wanted to try. She’d accepted that if Jacob was off duty, he was helping her and Liz in the shop with the parties. If he didn’t show up, then he was working—at the little brick station that separated them like the Atlantic separated America from Europe. But, Olivia would be glad her beloved uncle was at her party, and that was the bottom line. It was Olivia’s day, not Marissa’s, so she’d do like she’d done all week since her and Jacob’s truce—fake it ‘til she meant it.

  “Busy day.” Jacob pulled one arm to his side in a stretch, and then checked his watch. “I’m starved.”

  “You’re always starved.” Liz swatted Jacob’s arm. “Some things never change. You and Ryan are so much alike.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jacob winked. “Who wants lunch from the diner down the block? My treat.” He grabbed his truck keys from his pocket and jangled them in front of the girls like bait. “I’ll even spring for Tater Tots.”

  “Count me in.” Liz grabbed a notepad from Marissa’s desk and jotted down her order. “What do you want, Marissa?”

  “Cheeseburger and Tater Tots are fine. Mustard only on the burger.” She’d usually go for a salad, but she’d worked up an appetite today—physically and emotionally. Comfort food sounded good.

  “Got it.” Liz slapped the list against Jacob’s broad chest and Marissa couldn’t help but wish she had the same right to tease and joke around with him.

  Just not as a sister.

  Cheeks flushed, she turned to her desk and grabbed the nearest file on top, pretending to peruse the contents as if they were of the utmost importance. She kept her head down until the shop door closed behind Jacob, and then looked up as Liz plopped down in front of her.

  “Girl, what gives?”

  She feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

  “I know you and Jacob worked out the argument you had earlier in the week about his career and Owen.” Liz crossed her legs, then paused to brush at a piece of lint on her knee. “I didn’t realize you were falling for him.”

  “I’m not falling for him.” The lie burned Marissa’s lips and she swallowed, staring at the thread still clinging to Liz’s pant leg instead of meeting her new friend’s eyes. “I mean, I’m not trying to. It’s irrelevant, regardless.”

  “How so?”

  “I think he feels that he can’t get involved with me because my father is his boss. He’s afraid it would mess things up for him at work. And I can’t get involved with him because no matter how much I care for Jacob—”

  “So you admit it.” Liz sat back with a smug grin.

  Marissa continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, ignoring the flush heating her neck. “I can’t be in a relationship with a fireman. It’s that simple.”

  Liz frowned. “Maybe I’m missing a step. That doesn’t seem very simple at all.”

  “You don’t understand.” Marissa stood abruptly and grabbed another box from the floor by her chair. “Come on, we still need to distribute these posters advertising the festival. Let’s see if we can hang a few around the neighborhood before Jacob gets back.”

  “I’m a mom, too, remember,” Liz warned as she accepted the roll of tape Marissa handed her. “I know a dodge when I see one. But you’re not a kid, so I’ll let it go.” She touched Marissa’s arm and waited until Marissa looked at her, her voice softening. “Please know I’m here if you need to talk, okay? Parenting is hard enough with two parents, much less alone. It brings a lot of stress that carries over into other areas of our lives. It’s okay to get overwhelmed—just don’t let it control your life, okay?”

  “That’s not it.” Marissa hesitated at the door, balancing the box of flyers on her hip. She stared at the silver knob under her hand, the metal cool against her palm. A question teased her lips, begging for release. She hesitated, then plunged. “Do you ever feel relieved that Ryan was let go?”

  Liz’s eyebrows shot to her hairline and down again. “No, can’t say that I do.” She laughed. “Shockingly enough, I enjoyed regular paychecks and insurance.”

  “I meant now that he’s not a fireman anymore, he’s safe.” The statement sounded a little ridiculous even to her own ears, and Marissa wished she could take the question back. But she had to know. Wouldn’t she feel that way, if Kevin were still around and was let go? How many times had she begged him to change careers over the course of their marriage?

  Liz drew in her bottom lip, understanding dawning in her hazel eyes. “I supported my husband in his career. Happily.” She shrugged. “I figure God has it under control. He’ll either keep Ryan safe, or He’ll have a good reason not to. That’s not up to me.”

  “How can you say that so lightly?” The words whispered from Marissa’s lips and she gripped the knob tighter, trying to hold back a sudden onslaught of tears. God hadn’t protected Kevin, and she couldn’t ever begin to imagine how she could feel okay with that fact. Even if her love for Kevin had faded, even if the memories of their rocky attempt at marriage had dimmed, how could she accept the fact that God was in control and that was that?

  “I don’t say it lightly,” Liz answered. She took the heavy box from Marissa’s arm, and offered a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes you have to let Someone else carry the burden.”

  Marissa felt useless without something to hold, and she quickly took the box back. “I get your point. Thanks.”

  Liz opened
the door and ushered Marissa through. “You should come to church with us this Sunday. I really think Owen would love our kids’ ministry.”

  Church. Marissa closed the door behind them, stalling. Sunshine greeted her with a rush of warmth and she tilted her face to the blue sky above, wishing her fears could thaw as quickly as her skin. She hadn’t gone to a church service in years, but Liz was right—Owen would like it. He deserved a chance to grow up in Sunday school as Marissa had. But was it wrong to sit on the pew when her heart felt the way it did about God’s sovereignty? She chewed on her bottom lip as Liz waited patiently for an answer.

  Finally, Marissa nodded. “Okay. We’ll give it a try.” For Owen’s sake. She hoisted the box to her other hip as they began their trek to the streetlight post by the curb, feeling its weight grow heavier with every step.

  “What’s Sunday school?” Owen’s brow furrowed and his grip on his toy fire truck tightened. “I already go to school, Mom. I don’t want to go on the weekends, too.” Panic laced his voice from his position on the living room floor, and he sat back on his heels to look up at Marissa.

  Guilt pricked Marissa’s heart. Owen had gone to church with her many times as a toddler, but that was back when he went to the nursery room and she went to the service alone. Obviously he would have no recollection. “This isn’t like your real school, buddy. It’s church. You’ll get to learn a story from the Bible and do an art project and play with other kids.”

  Owen’s smile returned and he began pushing his truck on the floor. “That sounds cool. Why haven’t we been before?”

  “We used to go, before—” Marissa swallowed the rest of her sentence, not wanting to put either of them in a bad mood. Before your dad died. “Come on, buddy, it’s time for bed. Pj’s and teeth.” She watched to make sure Owen brushed all of his teeth and not just the front ones, then tucked him into bed, grateful he hadn’t inquired further about their lack of church attendance. She felt guilty enough already. “Sweet dreams.” She kissed his forehead.

  “Night, Mom.” Owen burrowed in his pillow, his red sheets pulled up to his ear. Then he popped upright. “Wait, I forgot my fire truck.”

  Marissa’s stomach tightened, wishing the symbol of the truck didn’t mean so much to him—and wishing that it didn’t bother her so badly that it did. “It’s in the living room. You can get it tomorrow.” She couldn’t fight that battle tonight. Not again.

  “Mom—”

  “Owen, it’s late. No toys in bed.”

  He sighed, but didn’t protest as he nestled back against the sheets. Marissa turned on his night-light with a soft click, then shut his door halfway before collapsing in the living room chair with a sigh. She clicked on the late-night news, eager for a distraction from long-buried thoughts of Kevin, the fire department and church.

  No such luck. On the screen, flames licked the roof of a ten-story office complex in downtown Orchid Hill above a red banner announcing BREAKING NEWS. Marissa’s fingers clenched the remote control as the familiar adrenaline rush flooded her system. Even after Kevin had passed away, the panic remained automatic at seeing flames. She inhaled deeply, trying to distance herself from the report on the screen. Kevin was gone. Her dad didn’t work the front lines. She had no reason to be concerned for anyone’s safety anymore.

  Jacob.

  Her heart constricted, then thudded twice like a drumbeat. Was Jacob working this fire? Was he on duty tonight? She sat up in the recliner, her pulse pounding so loudly the sensation fairly vibrated her skin. She should have kept up with his schedule better. But it didn’t matter.

  Did it?

  She stared at the scene unfolding before her on the television. The news anchor’s voice seemed far away as Marissa watched the smoke unfurl from the windows of the top floor, anxiety raking across her back like fingernails. “Suspected electrical fire at the east 4400 block of downtown Orchid Hill,” the brunette woman said on the screen, her expression tight. “Firefighters are currently working the scene. Thankfully no one was in the building at the time of the fire.” The feed cut to a group of firemen, identical in their yellow bunker gear, holding streaming hoses toward the blaze. Police tried to keep concerned onlookers on the curb across the street and out of the way. Rubberneckers, Kevin used to call them—neighbors and pedestrians who caused more accidents by attempting to sate their curiosity instead of staying clear of the scene.

  The phone rang. Marissa jerked, dropping the remote on her bare toes. She clenched her eyes against the stab of pain and grabbed the cordless from the receiver on the end table. She gritted her teeth. “Hello?”

  “Are you watching the news?”

  Marissa’s eyes flew open at her father’s voice, as all remnants of pain from her foot disappeared. He hadn’t called in, what, a month? Two months? “Yes. Are you downtown?” Chaos reigned in the background, and she wondered why she even asked. Of course her dad would be there. He might not be able to be counted on for family matters, but his accountability to his work went beyond predictable.

  “Yeah, I’m here. It’s under control, almost out. I figured you’d be watching.” He cleared his throat, and Marissa frowned. The chief rarely called her during—or even after—fires, even the big emergencies. Had the scene made him emotional? She scoffed. Surely not. This was Chief Brady, after all. But a small piece of Marissa’s heart wanted it to be true. She pressed her lips together, waiting, unsure what to say to encourage an admission or—dare she hope—affection.

  “This is exactly why I didn’t want you to get involved with the community fundraiser.”

  Her hopes fell at his harsh tone, shattering into multiple shards near her bruised toe. Figured. Her dad had about as many emotions as Owen had stain-free T-shirts. She sighed. “Dad, I—”

  “I’m serious, Marissa. This is above your head. We’ve gotten email threats and had vandalism at several stations. You can’t tell me it’s unrelated to the layoffs.” A siren punctuated his sentence and he waited until it passed, then lowered his voice. “This was an arson fire.”

  “What? The news anchor said electrical.” Arson? Not in Orchid Hill—impossible. Orchid Hill was considered by many magazines to be “the biggest little small town in the Deep South.” That kind of crime just didn’t happen.

  The chief snorted. “The media reports what we tell them—at least at first. Technically, it was electrical.”

  Marissa frowned. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “It was electrical, as in someone broke inside the office complex to the main, cut the electrical wires and created sparks—then helped things along with gasoline.”

  Oh. Still, that didn’t prove a connection to the layoffs. He was being paranoid. “Dad, the community isn’t holding a grudge. Everyone wants to help, hence the whole point of the fundraiser.” She bit her lip to keep from adding what she really wanted to say—that her dad could have possibly saved those men’s jobs if he’d been willing to risk negative publicity and fight for them.

  “I don’t think it’s that simple. People do crazy things for revenge and no one knows how to start a fire better than a fireman.” A hiss, probably steam from the hoses, sounded over the line, followed by the slamming of what was likely a car door. “Listen, I need to go. I only wanted to tell you to quit this fundraiser nonsense and think logically.”

  She balked. “Tell me?”

  The chief coughed. “All right, all right—ask you to reconsider your involvement with the fundraiser. I’d rather you stay out of the media altogether. We don’t want any criminals getting ideas.”

  The word ask had likely lodged in his throat a few times before emerging. Marissa would have laughed if the entire situation wasn’t so unbelievably frustrating. She clenched the phone in a tight grip and shook her head. “It’s too late. Things are already in the works.” An image of Jacob teased the fringes of her mind and she swallowed. More than you know. “Besides, I’m still not convinced this fire is connected anyway. You’re jaded.”

  “And
you’re naive.” He muttered something that might have been a goodbye before the line clicked into silence.

  Marissa returned the phone to its receiver, wishing she’d been able to ask about Jacob’s involvement with the fire tonight. But her father would have said something if any of his men had been injured—and so would the news anchor.

  The chief’s words replayed in Marissa’s head as she watched the flames slowly extinguish on the television. The media reports what we tell them.

  She turned the TV off with a click and made her way through the dark living room to her bedroom. Her dad didn’t have the right to be overprotective anymore. He gave that up with every missed party, late dinner and skipped school play. Besides, she knew the people of Orchid Hill. No one would react to the layoffs in such a drastic manner. Her father was mistaken. About a lot of things.

  Chapter Nine

  Jacob had never seen anyone so beautiful look so nervous. He watched Marissa clutch a Bible in her left hand, her right hand absently working the purple jeweled charm on the end of her necklace as she looked down at Owen. “You sure you’ll be okay, buddy?” Her purple silky dress, cinched in the middle with a black belt, set off the blond in her hair and the green in her eyes until Jacob could hardly bear to look away.

  Owen frowned up at his mom, as if he couldn’t imagine why she’d even ask such a thing. “Uh, yeah, Mom. You said this would be fun, didn’t you? Not like real school.”

  Marissa smiled, but the motion was almost lost beneath the worry in her eyes. “You’re right. It will be fun.” She looked away, biting her lower lip, and Jacob frowned. There was no way she was this worked up over her son going to a Sunday school class. No, there was something else causing the bags beneath her eyes and the lines in her brow and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the stress over Olivia’s upcoming party or the fundraiser.