She was also way too lean—someone ought to hand her a few quarts of ice cream and coax her into gaining some pounds. Maybe that’s where the stupid s’mores idea had come from. “Hungry?” he asked, putting down the ukulele and picking up one of the two small sticks.
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “S’mores?”
“It sounded clever when I thought of it.” Alex offered. “Now it’s feeling a bit, well, dumb.” He extended the second stick to her. “The only thing that will feel dumber is if I’m forced to eat these alone.”
“Mr. Crosby,” she said, narrowing one eye but taking another step toward him. “You’re a little odd, you know that?”
“If you were listening, tonight I’m Paul.” Alex tore open the package of graham crackers and began snapping them into squares before she could decline his invitation.
“I’m not going to be John, George or Ringo.” She was trying to make a joke of it, but there was an edge to her voice that let him know she didn’t trust this little game one bit.
“Hey,” he said softly, “you don’t have to be anybody.” Alex skewered a marshmallow and held it over the small fire. “I’m a torch ’em guy myself. I like my marshmallows in flames.”
He’d meant it to be funny, but a darkness flashed over her fair features at his words. It didn’t take a marketing genius to see she was out here to get away from something as much as he was. Something to do with fire—or just danger in general? Maybe. And really, was that so much of a stretch? Why else did people rent tiny cabins out on the river if not to get away from their problems?
For a minute, Alex thought she was going to turn around and leave, and he’d be sitting there, trying to figure out how he’d just insulted a woman with a single marshmallow. She was thinking about it; he could see it in her face. After a long moment, she pulled a marshmallow from the bag and positioned it on the end of her stick with entirely too much precision. “Golden brown,” she said. “No charring, just gooey.”
She sat down, hugging her knees to her chest as she held the stick over the orange embers.
“I’m Alex.” The words jumped out of his mouth of their own accord, shocking even him.
Her eyes flashed up toward him, wide with surprise before they narrowed again. “Alex for real?”
The question held an inexplicable weight. “Alex for real.” He felt exposed for no reason. He stared at her, wondering if she’d share her own name. Any such wondering was squelched when his marshmallow burst into flames, a tiny black torch burning against the darkening sky.
“JJ,” she said as he blew it out. The thing was too burned, even for him, but he knew he’d eat it anyway. Alex wondered if he’d ever know what JJ stood for or why such a thing should matter to him at all.
“You’re not really going to eat that, are you?” Behind her scowl was the barest hint of a smile.
“Blackened. The best kind.” Alex smacked his lips for emphasis as he squished the lavalike confection between the cracker and chocolate. “Savory.” He bit into it, tasting nothing but burned sugar. “And crunchy.”
JJ assembled hers with the attention of a chef. She ate it just as carefully, in strategic bites, whereas he’d just stuffed the whole thing into this mouth in one gooey-black splurge.
“You’re a careful person, aren’t you, JJ?”
She bit another precise corner off with an assessing glance. “You’re not.”
They went on for hours. Talking about little things—ice cream flavors, whether or not barista coffee was really worth the cost—and big things—why nature calmed the soul, what was going to happen to little places like Gordon Falls, why the high school version of who’d they’d be when they grew up had proved to be nothing close to the truth. The subjects seem to go deeper as the last traces of sunlight faded. Without ever speaking of it, they’d come to some sort of no-detail pact between them. No last names, no careers, none of that stuff. Wonderfully, effortlessly mysterious. A dark, luminescent bubble in the middle of nowhere.
“Alex,” JJ began, and he found himself wallowing in how she said his name, “why are you here?”
That could require another six hours of conversation. How do you explain being confounded by success, losing focus when focus was once your stock and trade? Really, what kind of person gets weary of their own supposed genius? Part of him was ready to spill it all, and part of him felt like he’d emptied out half his soul already. “I’m trying to figure out why it doesn’t all fit together anymore and what to do about it.” It was true, but nowhere near the full of it. He was here to figure out if he had to lay down Adventure Gear, the business he’d once loved and now hated. Only he couldn’t tell her that. To speak it out loud would bring that mess here, and he wanted all those problems to stay far away.
He looked at her, pleased to feel so startlingly close to her despite not even knowing her last name—or even what JJ stood for. “Why are you here?”
She sighed and looked out over the water. It was now full dark, and a perfect crescent moon cast sparkles on the water where she swished one foot into the river. “Because I don’t feel like I belong anywhere else. Anywhere at all, actually.”
He laughed softly.
She scowled. “It’s not so funny, you know.”
“No, it’s just that I’ve felt like I belong everywhere for so long, that actually sounds nice. I know it’s not—I mean, not for you—but isn’t it crazy how God skews the world for each of us?”
JJ hugged her knee again and propped her chin up, looking childlike and elegant at the same time. “So you believe in God, huh?”
Alex leaned back on his elbows and took in the glory of the sky. “I’ve seen so many amazing parts of the world that I can’t help but know He’s there. The big, grand creation stuff has always been easy for me to believe in.” He rolled his head to catch JJ’s eye. “It’s the up close and personal stuff that seems to have come unraveled lately. I’m not a guy who does well with questions and doubts.” He was grateful she didn’t ask for an explanation.
After a long pause, JJ offered, “I did, once. Believe, I mean.” Her voice was quiet, almost weary. “At least I thought I did.”
“And then?” He rolled over so that he was on his side facing her. She was fascinating. There wasn’t another word for it. Alex felt like he could stay up and talk out here for weeks.
“And then I saw too many things that made it hard to keep believing.” He knew not to press for anything further, but some part of him was grateful when, after a long pause, she added, “I was in the war.”
It explained so much. Her hard edges, the way her eyes assessed things, the weariness that seemed to inhabit every part of her. Suddenly every response he could think of sounded trite and placating.
“Yep,” she said, twice as wearily as before. “It’s always a fabulous conversation killer.”
“No, it’s just...”
“Please.” JJ held up a hand. “I’m so used to it by now. I’ve heard all the standard required replies and silence is actually a nice change.”
“I don’t know how you come back from something like that.” His own weariness, how globetrotting for adventure had lost its luster seemed downright ridiculous now.
“I suppose that makes two of us.” She got up to leave.
Alex scrambled upright. “Don’t. Please don’t go like that. Not now.” Her eyes looked a thousand miles deep, boring into Alex the way they did right now. “Two minutes. Just stay two more minutes.”
She stayed two more hours, still lingering when it started to rain. They got past the awkwardness, settling into a companionship that was as startling as it was soothing. Even soaked to the skin, it was the best night of his life.
Chapter Two
Worst day of my life.
Alex let that thought sink in as he raised his hand to knock on her cottage door two nights later. Sure, he could have called—the office had given him her cell number—but this wasn’t the kind of news that ought to be delivered over the p
hone. I owe Josephine Jones the dignity of hearing about this face to face. Now he knew her full name and was stunningly sorry he did. It’s going to be awful. In so many ways.
He knew she’d be up despite the excruciatingly early hour. In the days since they’d met, he had come to adore her insomnia with as much strength as he had once hated his. It was a terrible thing to lose the ability to sleep when the rest of the world could. Until JJ, he’d cursed his night-owl tendencies. For the past days, he had welcomed them.
Alex had checked the dock before heading up the gravel path that led to her house. He’d tried to tell himself that he was hoping to find her there because the peaceful surroundings might soften the hard news he carried. But he knew that wasn’t the real reason why he’d gone to the dock. He had taken the time down there to gather his own composure, to pray for the right words.
Finally, he’d realized there were no right words. Not for this kind of news. There was no easy way to admit to her what he knew, who he was, how much of the blame for this tragic news he was bringing her could be laid at his own feet.
I asked You to show me why I shouldn’t leave Adventure Gear behind, Lord. Did You have to show me this way?
He rapped gently on the cottage door, cringing as the light came on in the window he knew was her kitchen. It was still early enough for the moon to be hanging close and delicate in the brightening sky.
She opened the door with a yawning smile. “Hey. A bit early, even for you.”
He still couldn’t figure out how JJ exuded such a powerful, unusual beauty to him. So different from the usual frills and baubles. The difference struck him again as he stared at her, even as regret cut a sharp edge into his gut. She’ll probably hate me by the end of today. Maybe even by the end of this conversation.
“This can’t wait. May I come in?”
She had every right to look baffled. They’d both been out here for solitude, and though a friendship had begun to grow between them, they had kept out of each other’s private lives by mutual intuition. Really, it was the most amazing thing he’d ever known, this odd relationship he had with JJ. Their no-details pact had spawned the most powerful and deep conversations. Nature did that—pulled people into a bubble that shut out the mundane world. Alex had spent a career capitalizing on the natural world’s ability to heal a person’s spirit.
Only now it was coming back to slap him in the face. Hard.
“Um...sure. I can put some coffee on or something.”
They probably wouldn’t have time for coffee once he gave her the news. Alex was pretty sure he’d already taken more time than was wise, fishing fruitlessly for some kinder way to deliver the facts he came to share. “Don’t bother. But you need to sit down. I’ve...um...I’ve got a few things to tell you.”
JJ yanked her blond ponytail tighter—a habit of hers, he’d discovered—and led them into the kitchen. It had the sparse, uniform quality of a rental property, but he could see bits of JJ’s personality in the crock of flowers sitting in the middle of the table and a few other touches. All he knew was that she was here for the summer—he hadn’t even learned why until the call from his brother, Sam, had come. Had he known her last name, he might have made the connection to her brother and steered clear of those blue eyes. At the moment that little detail felt like a cruel joke God had played.
“What is going on?”
“My name is Alex Cushman.”
“Hey, wait, why are you telling me your last name? I thought we...”
Alex kept going, plowing through this before it hurt more. “My brother is Sam Cushman. Together we own Adventure Gear.”
Her brows furrowed. She hadn’t yet put together why that mattered, but it only took a few seconds before she said, “The sporting equipment company?”
“We supply equipment to the television show Wide Wild World.”
Her eyes widened. If she’d been sleepy before, she was wide-awake now. “The reality competition show? Where Max is?”
“Where Max is.”
“But wait, I never told you about Max. How do you know all...?” Her features sharpened instantly. “Wait...what’s going on? Why are you here?”
“There’s been an accident on the set of the show. Involving Max. I’m here to take you to the hospital because it’s pretty serious.” Pretty serious. He’d had to think for five minutes to come up with the right words to walk her up to the reality of what had happened to Max Jones.
Her hands covered her face for an instant, then went back down to fist in her lap. “He’s okay?”
Alex tried to keep his voice level and calm. He’d really hoped to avoid that question. “No, Max is not okay, but he survived and we’re arranging for him to get the best of care as fast as we can. That means you ought to pull a few things together and come with me. They’ve taken him into Chicago by helicopter, and we’ve got one waiting for you and me over in Dubuque. If you have parents who ought to come, give me that information and I’ll pass it along to the studio to arrange travel.”
“Mom doesn’t know?”
“Max only listed you on his emergency info. I didn’t know you were Max’s sister until about thirty minutes ago. I’m sorry.”
JJ shot off the chair. “Of course Max left Mom out of the loop. He’s fabulous at that.” The split-second frustration was quickly replaced with teary-eyed worry. “What happened to him?”
Alex had decided to parcel out the details of the accident in small stages, giving JJ time to cope with the catastrophe. Catastrophe. That was one of Sam’s favorite words, one Alex usually banned from his vocabulary—but it fit this time.
“Max fell during a night climb.”
“Fell? Far?”
“Yes. He was airlifted in serious but stable condition to Lincoln General about twenty minutes ago.” He was hoping that would be enough, that she would take those facts and move forward to gather her things. She didn’t budge. “JJ, we should go as soon as we can.”
He saw something click behind her eyes. She shifted gears into a harder, more precise version of herself, but she still didn’t get up. Instead, her eyes narrowed at Alex as she watched him more closely. Of course. She’d mentioned she was planning to use her experience to join the volunteer fire department here if she stayed. She wasn’t just a soldier—she must have been a first responder of some kind. She wasn’t going to let him off with a vague assessment of Max’s condition. Her eyes told him she needed as much information as he could give right now, no matter how bad.
“They suspect a spinal cord injury. He’s not conscious, and they’re going to keep him sedated while they assess the...” he hesitated to use this word but knew it was what she was looking for “...damage. Lincoln General has the best doctors for this. The show’s producers are doing all they can but right now we really should go.”
She’d been too calm up to this point. The women he knew would have lost it ten minutes ago, would be rushing in tears to the car he had outside. JJ was pulling herself inward, winding up into a tight ball of control. It worried him more than tears would, especially knowing what he did about why she was in Gordon Falls. She’d come here to escape the tension and turmoil she’d known overseas, and he’d literally brought trauma to her doorstep.
He’d almost breathed a sigh of relief when she turned toward the hallway, hopefully to gather her things. He went to make a call to the office for an update but stopped when she turned at the end of the room to glare at him with ice-cold eyes. “You’re Alex Cushman. You own Adventure Gear and you’re involved with the show WWW where Max just practically got himself killed.”
It was an excruciatingly fair assessment of the circumstances. Alex could only nod.
She made a disgusted sound that Alex felt in the pit of his stomach and left the room.
* * *
JJ had ridden in helicopters more times than she could count. She’d done things—seen things—that would make most people run in fear. Serving as a firefighter in Afghanistan had given her nerves o
f steel.
Or so she’d thought. As the helicopter swooped up off the ground and veered east toward Chicago, a sick sense of dread filled her. She’d been in enough crises to pick up on everything Alex wasn’t saying. Worry about her brother battled with anger at herself for feeling so disappointed in the man Alex had turned out to be. The dreamy bubble she’d cast around this stranger, this man who had captured her imagination, had now burst in the worst way possible.
When had she lost her common sense? Their avoidance of everyday topics, deliberately not sharing their identities... All that seemed beyond foolhardy now. Ordinarily, JJ was nothing if not careful.
Unlike Max. Max was a carnival of carelessness. Suddenly the jokes Mom and her late father would make, like, “It’s a wonder Max hasn’t gotten himself killed yet,” weren’t so funny. A wave of concern for her younger brother waged war with anger over having to deal with another Max-induced calamity. She leaned her head against the aircraft’s cool glass in an effort to calm her roiling stomach.
“Are you going to be okay?” Everything about Alex had shifted in the past hour. He’d lost the casual air, that look of having all the time in the world that had first drawn her to his silhouette as he sat on the dock in the moonlight. Now, even over the chopping of the helicopter blades, his voice was clipped and tight. The unmistakable tone of someone trying to manage a crisis.
“I doubt it.” She wasn’t going to give Mr. Adventure Gear the satisfaction of an “I’ll be fine.” Nothing about this was going to be fine, at least not anytime soon. A man’s mother isn’t hauled in from out of state for small injuries. Damaged spinal cords didn’t heal completely, if ever. She looked at him and leaned in. “Tell me what you know.”
“There’s not much to know just yet.”
Standard first-responder jargon. “Tell me all the stuff you haven’t told me yet. I’m not going to go to pieces.” Alex’s eyes told her he feared just that. Other people probably would in this situation. Only she wasn’t other people. “Look,” she tried again, although shouting over the helicopter noise didn’t exactly make for easy chatting. “I’d feel better with more facts.” And less coddling, she added silently.
The Firefighter's Match Page 2
