“I’ll just keep this and make a few editing suggestions, but otherwise I think you’re on a roll. Just keep going.”
Mrs. St. Michaels leaned in. “You know, I love Gen as much as the next person, but why don’t you do this instead of working here?”
“Do what?”
“Help other people get their stories out. If not for that outline you helped me with, my book would be a mess. You got me organized so I had a starting point. You could teach others how to write.”
After Mrs. St. Michaels left the bakery, Diana considered the advice. It would be teaching, and she’d already thought of doing that. She could start out slowly, building up a small clientele. Maybe eventually teaching some online workshops. It could work. But first, she had to do something far more important. She brought up her one thousand word carefully crafted, grammatically sound article. It was crap on a cracker. Diana went to her hard drive, selected the file, sucked in a breath and hit ‘delete.’
‘This action cannot be reversed.’
She blew out a breath and pressed delete again.
Scott fully expected today to be FUBAR.
Sure enough, by morning there were no less than twenty email alerts on his phone. No surprise to him. The dregs of sleep still in his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and scrolled through them one by one. This, he figured, was his punishment for staying alive. For being mostly whole while too many of his friends had lost it all.
Jake’s sister Megan had sent the usual barrage of emails and accusations marking the fourth anniversary of her brother’s death.
You’ve fooled everyone else but I know what you really are.
Jake needed your help. Where were you?
Scott had already learned it was useless to engage her. Both Jake and Megan had been raised in a mostly dysfunctional family and Jake had always been her one and only protector. Scott kept reading, the anger and despair filling him. Wallace had repeatedly asked him not to read these emails and most of the time he didn’t. But today he allowed Megan to punish him. Hell, he wanted to punish himself. At least this way someone was doing it for him.
Scott rolled out of bed and wished Diana was next to him right now. He’d tug her into his arms and breathe in the light flowery scent that was so uniquely hers. In her warm eyes, he’d see reflected the look that made him feel human again. Wanted. Needed.
On his kitchen counter, he picked up the Wounded Warrior information. Ty had dropped enough hints about the Wounded Warrior project to last for a while. Scott got it. He should channel some of his grief for Jake into doing some good. Ty was working an event in a month and he wanted Scott’s help. And he hadn’t been shy about asking for it. Another word might be ‘demanding’ it. But Scott wasn’t sure he could do it. Being around too many casualties of war could bring the nightmares back. There was nothing wrong with the fact that he was dedicated to his job. His entire identity revolved around his job. Not everyone could say that about their life’s work. He was out there, making a difference every day. The accident had proved that.
And now he’d be suspended for two days.
The word was Timmy would be in traction for a while since the leg had been broken in several places. The kid would be lucky if he didn’t have a limp after all this. The legal matters were probably only beginning. Considering what the kid had to look forward to, Scott should probably consider himself lucky to get a two-day suspension. Trying to shake his foul mood, he dressed and drove to the bakery, hoping to check in with Sophia. To his surprise, Diana sat in a corner of the bakery in such deep concentration that she didn’t even look up when the doorbell chimed.
“Hey,” Scott said to Sophia after she’d taken care of a customer.
“I wouldn’t interrupt her right now.” Sophia gestured in Diana’s direction. “Anyway, I said something to her a minute ago and she didn’t even hear me.”
“I actually came by to see you.” Though he couldn’t stop glancing toward Diana.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, a little smile on her lips. She bounced in her seat a little bit and every other second her shoulders would bump in time to something only she could hear. Cute. At least she didn’t look pissed while writing anymore. If something pissed him off that much, he’d probably stay away from it too. Good to know something had changed.
“Did you know Mrs. St. Michaels is writing a book about all her tenants?” Sophia asked.
“I saw your tweet.”
Sophia took her phone out of her apron. “Is what Jeremy keeps tweeting true? Did you really jump over the guardrail?”
Scott froze. “Tell me there’s no video of that.”
“Are you kidding? I heard there was a huge traffic jam. I think Jeremy only knows because he happened to be stuck in it on the way to AT&T Park.”
He thanked God for that one. The last thing he needed was some other rescue going viral. This one would be bad for the department, showing him ignoring protocol.
“Yeah, it’s true.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stole another glance at Diana. She still hadn’t noticed him. Why did that bother him, exactly?
“Man, you have it bad.”
“What?” He forced his attention back to Sophia.
“You can’t stop looking at her.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re friends.” It was all Diana wanted, and he understood that. She had needs for him on one level, but they didn’t extend beyond that.
Sophia snorted. “Yeah. Oooo-kay.”
He ignored that comment. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah. Daddy-O is starting to come around. It’s going to take a little time, but Eileen is really helping with that.”
“Yeah?”
“She’s been super cool about the whole thing.”
“She only wants you to be happy and doesn’t have any other expectations from you.” But when he thought about it, Mom had always only supported what her sons wanted to do.
Wallace had tested in the gifted range in school, and he could have done much better than construction work. But he was doing what he loved. Not to mention doing who he loved. Every day and night, probably.
“I think she’s helping me wear my dad down. My mom used to do that, you know.” She nodded and smiled at the customer who walked in the door. “It’s all good.”
Scott stepped aside for the customer, and strode to Diana’s corner table. He was a foot away from her when she looked up. The previous smile on her lips shifted slightly, but it was her eyes that held his interest and attention. They were soft and glowing with heat. For him.
She pulled ear buds out. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“No kidding.” He sat across from her. “It’s going good?”
“For the first time in ages. I’m having fun again. I’m not worrying about rules.”
“You worry about rules?” He forced a smile.
“Not with you. Obviously.”
The doorbell jingled and Debbie White headed straight for their table. Great. So not what he needed right now. Either she was going to tear into Diana, or rip him to shreds over something her precious sonny boy had told her. He stood up because Diana might not know who was sending all the flannel but he strongly suspected who did. And he didn’t want anyone ruining the fact that Diana was finally starting to get past the video.
To his shock, Mrs. White grabbed him in a bear hug. “Scott Turlock, I don’t know how to thank you enough!”
“Just doing my job.”
“No, more than that! You care.” Mrs. White pulled back, sniffling. “Timmy told me what you did. He was scared and alone and you stayed with him. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“Maybe you could get Timmy to stop speeding.”
She shook a finger towards Scott. “Believe me, we’re taking away the keys. He’s in a lot of trouble, and lucky to be alive, thanks to you.”
“We all did what we had to do.” Scott stuffed his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable as hell with all the grat
itude.
“But you took a risk to help my son. No one else did that.”
Mrs. White next turned to Diana, and Scott reacted purely on instinct, putting his body between them.
She dodged around Scott. “I have an apology to make,” Mrs. White said. “Diana, I’m sorry about all the flannel and bathrobes.”
“That was you?” Diana stammered out.
“It was stupid, I know. You should dress however you want. I didn’t mean to imply dressing that way made you a loose woman or anything.”
“Um, sure. And you should know I had a perfectly good bathrobe.”
“There was no time for it,” Scott added.
“Of course not,” Mrs. White said. “It was a fire, and the important thing was your life. And anyway, hon, if I’m being honest maybe we’re all just a little bit jealous that we couldn’t pull that look off.”
“I just…I…” A blush rose in Diana’s cheeks.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you, dear.” Mrs. White patted Diana’s shoulder. “I’m just…sorry. Okay?”
Diana smiled. “Forget about it. I’m going to wear the flannel when it starts to get colder.”
Over his dead body, Scott thought, and then realized he’d have no say in it come winter.
The two women hugged. Once Mrs. White had left the bakery, Diana didn’t waste much time. “What did she mean by you taking a risk?”
He lifted a shoulder and got ready to lie. “Don’t know. We all take risks every day.”
“I hope you realize how much you’re needed right here. Do you see that you can do good right here? People love you.”
People. Right. Not her. “I don’t care about that.”
The ridiculous thoughts running through his head pissed him off, and he pulled back from her. It was emotional suicide to want more from her when he clearly didn’t deserve it. What he had to do, and soon, is cut her loose before he got too lost in her. Too tied up to easily walk away. His phone buzzed again his pocket, for the fifth time in as many minutes. He wasn’t going to look. Not now.
“What do you care about?” She searched his eyes for an answer, but she wouldn’t find one there.
He’d long ago learned how to slide his eyes into neutral mode, and he did so now almost automatically. Purely protective, he told himself. “The job.”
She blinked. “You’re good at what you do. You already have what so many of us want. To make a difference.”
He nearly flinched because he still couldn’t seem to make enough of a difference. He’d never be able to earn Megan’s forgiveness. Whether or not he should be done trying was up for debate. It was the same thing every year. Diana just happened to have a front row seat to the implosion, even if she didn’t realize it. Even if he could somehow share this burden with her so that she might understand, none of it would change a thing.
Jake would still be gone.
He stood up to go. “I’ve got errands to run.”
“Sure. Call me later.” She stared up at him and for a moment her eyes appeared open, almost hopeful. Then just as quickly they shuttered.
She couldn’t make it too easy for him, after all. Some small part of him realized that it would take only a few words from him to take what they had deeper. Stronger. More permanent. But as Megan would remind him all day today, he didn’t deserve to be happy. Didn’t deserve to have what he wanted out of life.
And maybe nothing he ever did could change that.
20
At long last, Diana’s article was finished. Right on deadline.
It wouldn’t win any awards in the literary world, but for once Diana didn’t care. She’d had a blast writing it. Laughed out loud while she wrote certain parts. Entertained herself, for once.
For the first time in far too long.
There was something to be said for enjoying the creative side of writing, because it was also most of the time excruciatingly hard and painstaking work. If she couldn’t at least have fun through the creating, she no longer saw the point. Mrs. St. Michaels had taught her that. She had joy in her expression and didn’t care that most literary types would stick their professorial noses in the air at her syntax. Diana would have been one of them once upon a time. Now she saw the rough gem again before it had been shined and polished to the point where there was no stone left.
Mrs. St. Michaels had apparently told everyone she knew how Diana had helped her get organized and develop an outline for her book. Now Edna, an old friend of Mrs. St. Michaels, wanted help with her memoir. A friend of Julie’s wanted help with a short story she’d written for an e-zine, for which she’d received a revise and resubmit. For a change of pace, the town’s grapevine was working in a good way for Diana. She might actually be able to develop a small business plan with the help of Mandy. An old lover had returned wearing new clothes. Hell, he’d returned with plastic surgery.
Not wanting to waste another minute and change her mind, Diana fired off an email to Ophelia attaching her article. No, it wasn’t perfect but hopefully it was somewhat humorous and captured some of the heart of the FD of Starlight Hill. She’d become fond of one of them in particular.
Scott had surprised her with how open he’d been. Taking her back to the lake took guts, and coming clean about that night had made a difference. She’d carefully formulated only one view of that night through her own clouded lenses. But now she could see that in some ways, Scott had regrets too. He’d shared all of that and more with her. It gave her a slice of hope that maybe they could be more to each other than their ridiculous friends with benefits situation. It wasn’t working for her. She wanted more, but if this morning was any indication it wouldn’t be easy. Scott had been distant and he’d made it clear that the most important thing in his life was the job. She had no right to be selfish and ask for more than what he’d already given her. No right to expect him to put her first.
The next day after her shift at the bakery, Diana dropped by Gran’s, where she found Mom and Gran in the kitchen.
She put a box of pastries on Gran’s table. “Where’s Mandy?”
“Still sleeping. We were up late last night looking over our financials.” Mom said from next to the coffee machine.
Still sleeping? It took Diana a minute to remember that not everyone kept baker hours, and it was only ten o’clock in the morning.
“What are you doing here?” Gran asked.
“What do you mean? I stop by every day.” Diana grabbed a mug for coffee from the cupboard.
“Yes, but that was back when you worried about me. Now you realize you don’t need to. And even if you did, you could always ask your mother and Mandy to do it for you.”
It was true. With Mom and Mandy she no longer had to check in with Gran every day. Take her grocery shopping, to her doctor’s appointments and on all errands.
“What will you do with all the extra time?” Gran asked, smiling and diving into the box of goodies.
She had some ideas. “I’m not sure.”
“Maybe you can go on a date with Scott now.”
Diana stilled. She’d been far more than dating Scott, but she wouldn’t exactly want to define for Gran what she’d been so busy doing with Scott. Dating, not so much. Screwing him till his eyes crossed? Guilty. That had to stop and soon because already her heart was far more involved than she’d ever planned. Yes, he was a good man but he was still very much a man. She couldn’t blame him, either, since she’d been the one to set it up this way. To protect yourself. Yeah, right.
“Who’s Scott? Is that your beau? That’s the guy Mandy mentioned!” Mom’s eyes lit up again, and then as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar she shifted to a neutral look.
God bless her. She was trying. “He’s not my beau. Or my boyfriend.”
“Well, of course not. You first need to go on a date together,” Gran said.
Right. Diana didn’t answer, just stared blankly at Gran. She’d made some kind of promise to that effect not long ago but why did
it feel like everything had changed since then?
“You promised you would,” Gran continued. “I’m sure Gen is waiting and hoping.”
Diana was sure Gen would be doing nothing of the sort. “What I want is for everyone to stop trying to fix me up.”
“She’s right, Mother,” Diana’s mom said. “Didn’t we agree we’d ease off on her?”
Mandy staggered into the kitchen, wearing a long t-shirt that read, ‘accountants do it by the numbers.’ “This had better be good because I was having a dream starring Johnny Depp. Why are you all yelling?”
“Good morning,” Gran said, filling a mug of coffee and handing it to Mandy.
“It’s about time you woke up.” Diana took a cinnamon roll before Mandy beat her to it. “Do you know what time I get up?”
“No, I don’t know and I don’t care. You woke me up, Diana. It was your high screechy voice. I’d know it anywhere. Now you owe me.”
“I owe you nothing. I’m the firstborn and I blazed the trail for you. You’re welcome.”
“Take me out tonight. If I see another number or another Excel spreadsheet I might have to cut somebody.”
“There’s not much night life around here. I remember that part well,” Mom said.
“What about that place called The Tavern?” Mandy asked.
“Looks seedy,” Diana said. “Not going there.”
“Is that the place Arnie’s father used to own?” Mom asked, a little light in her eyes. “Screwy Dave.”
“Why do they call him that? Is he crazy?” Diana asked.
“No,” Mom answered. “He just had a few screws in his arm from a bad break once. Happens in pro-wrestling.”
“Arnie’s your mother’s old boyfriend. The one before she met your father. He owns the bar now. Took it over when his father passed away,” Gran said and then everyone stopped talking.
Just. Stopped. Talking.
Starlight Hill: Complete collection 1-8 Page 85
