by Kathryn Shay
Drawn from his thoughts by his father’s question, Alex grimaced. “Oh, well, I’ve been meaning to tell you about him.”
His father’s blue eyes twinkled. “You look like you did that night I caught you and Suzy Henderson in the boathouse at our cottage.”
Laughing, Alex recalled his amorous teenage escapades.
“Tell me about the guy.”
Alex sobered. “It’s a long story, Dad.”
“I’ve got time.”
“I was driving by Jay Street three weeks ago and passed this homeless man on the corner. He had a sign that said, Vietnam vet—will work for food.”
“That’s sad.”
“Yeah, I went by him, but I couldn’t get him out of my mind. So I doubled back and asked him if he really meant that he’d work for food. When he said yes, I gave him the company address and told him to come by the next day, ask for me and I’d give him a job.”
Jared stared at his son. “And he did.”
Alex nodded.
“I’ll bet Davidson in personnel loved that.”
Alex reddened. “Everybody’s been ribbing me about Ernest.”
“I’m proud of you, son. You always did have a generous heart.”
Taking in a deep breath, Alex, knew he had to finish the story. “There’s more to this than that. I recognized him. He’s the homeless person who was suspected of starting the fire in our warehouse.”
“Why would you hire him, then?”
“Because he started the fire to keep warm, Dad. And no one was going to help him get a job. The whole notion bothered me at the time. When I had the opportunity to do something for him, I took it.”
His dad clapped him on the back. “Like I said, I’m proud of you, Alex.”
“Richard wasn’t. He threw a fit. That’s one of the reasons I’m glad he took a vacation.”
“We need to talk about that.”
“Hey, Alex. It’s time for the egg toss,” one of the workers who organized the games yelled across the lawn.
Alex groaned. “I’ll be right there, Denise.” He angled his head to the employees. “Wouldn’t want to pinch-hit for me, would you, Dad?”
Jared chuckled. “No, you’re on your own in this. One of the many benefits of retirement.”
Afternoon drifted into evening as workers and management participated in an egg toss, a water balloon contest and bingo. They even managed a few games of volleyball, which Francesca would have loved, had she been able to get there. Around seven the picnic began to wind down.
His father left, and some of the staff social committee were loading the gear onto their trucks. Alex was checking the barbecue area in case they’d left something behind. He looked up to see Ernest Mackey hovering by a tree. “Did you have a good time, Ernest?”
The man stepped out of the shadows and stared hard at Alex, the wisdom of the streets in his old eyes. “Yeah, Mr. Templeton, I did. It’s why I wanna talk to you. If you got time.”
“Sure.”
Ernest smoothed his fingers over his mustache. “I wanna thank you for hirin’ me.”
Alex smiled. “Your supervisor said you’re doing a good job.”
“I ain’t been late or nothin’,” he said proudly.
“Good. What did you want to talk to me about?”
The man looked down for a moment and kicked some dirt with his foot. Then he raised his gaze to Alex. “I wanted you to know somethin’. I didn’t start your warehouse fire.”
Alex stilled.
“I know you think I did and you hired me anyway. Nobody’s ever done that for me. Given me a second chance. Only it ain’t a second chance, and I wanted you to know that. I didn’t set the fire.”
“The case is closed. You got community service, right?”
“Yes, sir, and I did the work. For the other fire. I did start that one. It was rainy and cold, and I was lookin’ for heat.” He tilted his chin. “But I didn’t do yours. I swear.”
Alex glanced at the man’s arms. “You had burn wounds right after our fire.”
“I was cookin’ some hamburger meat in a garbage can and the whole thing blew up. Hell of a fire I had to put out.”
“All right. Thanks for telling me that.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“In all honesty, I’ll have to think about what you said.”
“Fair enough.” Ernest straightened and shifted his feet. “You know the wire and lighter fluid they found?” Alex nodded. “I been on the streets since I got back from Nam.
I seen that stuff before, plenty of times. It ain’t always for keepin’ warm.”
Alex cocked his head.
“Druggies use it to cook their stuff. Maybe somebody was gettin’ high there, freebasin’ coke."
“Could be,” Alex said carefully.
“Them investigators, they see what they think they’re gonna see. Soon as they seen I started one fire to keep warm, they think yours was the same thing.” Ernest turned away from Alex but glanced over his shoulder. “Just wanted to tell you to this, because you been so good to me.”
And then he was gone.
Alex thought about Ernest Mackey as he bade good night to the last of the employees and walked to his car. The man’s comments bothered him. He inserted the key into the lock just as the Red Devil pulled up behind his Porsche.
Francesca flew out of the cab and headed toward him.
Her eyes were full of concern. “It’s over,” she said simply.
“Yes. It is.”
oOo
Diana tucked in her short-sleeved mauve top, wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and scolded herself for her nervousness. It was just a date, for God’s sake. She pulled open the door.
Ben leaned on the jamb, his hair tousled, his navy blue T-shirt straining across his chest, his jeans hugging him indecently for a fifty-three-year old man.
“Hello,” she said, her voice throaty.
Silently he perused her. “Jeans look even better on you than thirty years ago.” His smile was thousand-watt. “And they were dynamite then.”
Her heart thumped in her chest. “Is that why you told me to wear them?”
“One of the reasons.” He winked. “I was hoping to stick my hands in the back pockets when we danced.”
“Are we going dancing?”
“Yep.”
“Do you want to come in first?”
His sexy stare could have melted ice. “Not if you want to go out.”
She grinned girlishly. “I’ll get my purse.”
Inside the Cherokee, Ben stuck the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it. Instead, he leaned over, wrapped a hand around her neck and drew her close. Diana didn’t even think about protesting. He kissed her long and lusciously. “God, you taste good.”
“So do you.”
Staring into her eyes, he said, “I missed you, Dee. Every single day you were gone.”
Even her bones turned to mush. “I missed you, too.”
He let her go, started the car and took to the road. Early evening on a Tuesday, twilight bathed the near-empty streets. When they got to an intersection, Ben pulled the car to the shoulder. Diana willed back the tears when she saw why. A flower vendor had set up shop, hawking an assortment of blooms out of the back of his van. She watched Ben exit the car, purchase a bunch of daisies and get back in, just as he’d done so many times when they were first married.
A sheepish grin accompanied the flowers when he gave them to her. “You always loved these from the roadside guy.”
She inhaled them deeply, then sighed. “I’m not sure why. It was so romantic.”
“Hathaway probably bought you hothouse orchids.”
Diana gripped his arm. “These are special, Ben. Don’t demean them.”
“Old habits die hard.”
“We’ll work on them one at a time.”
She was still sniffing the flowers when they pulled up to the GT—the Green Tavern, a bar in Fairfield where he’d taken her on their f
irst date. “Oh, Ben.”
Staring at the new sign above the door, he sighed. “I thought, maybe, if we started over…”
“It’s a lovely idea. I’m impressed.”
He gave her a youthful grin. “You were then, too.”
“I doubt they’ll have Mel Carter, though.” She smiled as she referred to the artist who sang the song they’d danced to until the bar closed.
Inside, the room was dim. At only seven o’clock, they practically had the place to themselves. They ordered beer and munched popcorn. Diana felt eighteen again.
She watched Ben when he got up and crossed to the jukebox. She loved him even more than she had when they were married. Maybe because she knew now what it was like to lose him. Her morbid reflection was interrupted by the familiar strains of “Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. There it was, their song, the one she could never listen to after they’d spilt.
Ben sauntered to her, as cocky and confident as the twenty-year-old firefighter he’d been then. He didn’t ask her to dance, just reached down and spun her out of the chair as if she belonged to him.
She guessed she always had.
Burying her face in his chest, she nestled in. “Amazing they had the song here.”
He didn’t say anything.
“They didn’t, did they?”
“Nope. I bought the CD and brought it over. Cost me an arm and a leg to get them to put it in the damn thing for tonight.”
“Oh, Ben.”
“Well, honey, you said you wanted to be courted.” He rubbed his hand in a slow, sexy circle on her back. “How does it feel?”
“It feels great.”
oOo
On Sunday night, Alex was restless and out of sorts over his relationship with Francesca. They’d talked about her missing the picnic, and she’d apologized again. But he knew down deep her absence wasn’t her fault. The situation, her situation, her being a firefighter, was the problem.
She’d stayed with him last night, and their lovemaking had been bittersweet.
I’m sorry, she said between kisses.
I know. So am I, for making a fuss about things.
They’d spent most of the next day together on the lake and had a quick supper at Schaller’s. At about seven, she’d gone home because Richard had called in the morning and asked if he could see Alex tonight. His brother had sounded strained, almost urgent, and Alex had agreed, though he hated missing any of Francesca’s off time. He hadn’t told her, but he was hoping to sneak over to her house after Richard left. He’d showered and dressed in jeans and a light cotton shirt she thought turned his eyes the color of the forest, so he could leave when Richard did.
The bell rang. When Alex opened the door, Richard was standing there, dressed in a black polo shirt and jeans. He was grim-faced. Alex invited him in, then led the way to the deck, where they seated themselves in lawn chairs.
“You don’t look good, Richard,” Alex commented. “Two weeks in Acapulco should have made you more rested.”
Richard clasped his hands in his lap. “I didn’t go to Acapulco.”
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t take a vacation.”
Alex felt panic flutter in his stomach. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Richard swallowed hard. “Actually, things are better now.” He looked at Alex. “God, I hate disappointing you. I’ve lived my whole life worrying about disappointing you. Did you know that?”
Alex sat back. “You mentioned it once before.”
“It’s true.”
“I’m sorry you felt that way.”
“Yes, so am I. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.”
“What have you done?”
“I didn’t go on vacation. I checked myself into a detox clinic in Pennsylvania.”
“Oh, Richard.”
“I got back on the dope. Long story why.”
“I’ve got time.”
“There’s more, Alex.”
“All right, tell me.”
“The warehouse fire?”
Ernest’s words came back like a bad dream. Druggies use it to cook their stuff. “Oh, my God.”
“I see you’ve put it together.”
“Why don’t you tell me, anyway?”
“I was freebasing in the basement. You weren’t at the warehouse when I arrived.” He stood, jammed his hands in his pockets and began to pace. “I didn’t know you’d come in. I was high. The fire got out of control.”
“Thank God you weren’t hurt.”
Richard turned abruptly to face him. “How can you say that?”
“Because nothing else really matters, Richard.”
Moisture formed in his brother’s eyes. “I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”
Alex shook his head. He was angry with Richard, but he wouldn’t lay that on him now. “I’m all too real, Richard. And I’m concerned about you.”
“I wanted to confess right away. But I couldn’t. When I saw what my silence was doing to our relationship, I knew I had to take steps to get clean—then come clean with you.”
“To our relationship? The case was closed.”
“Yes. But I couldn’t forget about what I’d done.” Richard sat again and linked his hands between his knees. “And Francesca Cordaro kept reminding me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“In detox counseling, I learned a lot of things. Francesca was a constant reminder of the fire. And the fire happened because I’m a drug addict. That’s the reason I’ve harped on your relationship with her. Every time you mentioned her, it underscored my weakness.”
Alex blew out a heavy breath.
“She seems like a nice person. And I can tell you’re crazy about her. I hope I haven’t ruined things for you.”
“That’s not important now.”
Richard stared at him bleakly.
“What do you want to do?”
“The counselors said if I was going to stay straight, I had to get all this out. Deal with it emotionally and legally. You’re the first step. And the hardest.”
“What can I do?”
“I’d like you to go with me to tell Mother and Dad.”
“Of course.”
He cleared his throat. “Then we’ll go to Zeleny.”
“Or maybe a lawyer first.”
“Maybe. I’m worried about all that.”
Richard rose. Alex stood, too, reached out and embraced his brother. “I’ll help, Richard. So will Mother and Dad. We’ll get you through this, I promise.”
Alex didn’t get home until eleven o’clock. He was drained. But what he needed right now was Francesca. Though it was late, he took out his cell and dialed her number.
“This is Francey. Leave a message.”
She wasn’t home? Where could she be?
“Francesca, it’s Alex. Pick up if you’re there.”
Nothing.
Swearing, he hung up.
On impulse, he dialed the fire station. After two rings, he heard, “Quint/Midi Twelve. Firefighter Cordaro speaking.”
“Francesca?”
“Alex?”
“You aren’t on tonight. What are you doing there?”
She hesitated, then said, “They asked me to sub.”
Silence.
“You were tied up with Richard.”
He didn’t know what to say.
“I’m glad you called, though.”
“I need to talk to you,” he told her.
“Okay, I’m on watch. I got a lot of time.”
“Good. Something awful has—”
He heard the PA in the background.
“Oh, God, Alex, we’ve caught a run. I have to go.”
Disoriented, he said, “Go?”
“Yes. I’ll call you when we get back, okay?”
He said simply, “Don’t bother.”
oOo
Ben and Diana sat on a blanket on Lake Ontario beach, watching
the waves crash on the shore. Sunday had been a typically hot day for July, right up until now, at six o’clock. Ben reached into a bag and pulled out a fire department sweatshirt. Gently he tugged the fleece over his wife’s head. Poking through the top, she surfaced with her hair in her eyes. He brushed it away, taking the opportunity to lean over and kiss her soundly.
“Still cold?”
“A little.”
He looked at her legs, garbed in modest white shorts. Tenderly he pulled up the second blanket that lay at their feet. Then he cuddled her close and leaned against the picnic table.
“Nicky’s hands looked good last night,” she said.
Absently he smoothed her hair. “He only asked about you ten times before you got there.”
“He’s at loose ends.”
Ben kissed the top of her head. “He’s missed his mama.”
Diana stiffened.
“I didn’t mean offense.”
“I know. It’s just hard.”
He stroked her arm idly. “You’ve made more progress with him than I ever thought possible.”
“He still doesn’t trust me.” She paused. “And neither do you.”
“Trust doesn’t come easy to Cordaro men. I’m doing the best I can.”
She kissed his chest through his lightweight cotton shirt. “I know you are. And I appreciate all the gestures this week.”
Ben thought back to what a sap he’d been. Bringing her Godiva candy—her favorite—in the middle of the day. Making dinner for her, Nicky, Gus and Grace last evening. Calling her late at night just to tell her he was thinking about her.
“Do you? Appreciate them?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want something in return.”
She gave him an affected glare. “Sex, right?”
He smirked. “Nah. I could talk you into that in a second.”
“Modest in your old age, aren’t you?”
“Right now, baby, I feel about sixteen, so I’d watch it if I were you.”
She chuckled.
“This is more important. I don’t want you to see other men, Dee. I don’t want you to go out with anybody else.”
Her hesitation annoyed him, and he felt the stirrings of his old nemesis, jealousy. Finally she nodded. “All right, I can do that, though for the record, I haven’t exactly been out with other men painting the town red.”
He didn’t smile. “It’s important to me.”
