Dear Ruth

by Kim Fielding

  But Bryce’s head continued to whirl. “Did you write that letter?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did you know I’m—”

  “Ruth? Also yep.”

  “Nobody’s supposed to know that.” Even Mrs. Foster didn’t know. Surely Alma hadn’t spilled the beans. Bryce didn’t think she knew Noah, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have said anything about the column.

  “I, uh…. Remember when you gave me your house tour? I sort of peeked at your laptop. You need to use a screensaver, dude. Anyway, I saw what was there and made a few inferences. Sorry.” He stepped back a little, and Bryce stifled a protest.

  “It’s no big…. Jesus.” Bryce briskly rubbed the back of his head. “Man, I totally didn’t expect this.”

  Noah winced. “Yeah. A couple times I kind of thought you might…. But then you didn’t, and I didn’t….”

  “You don’t honestly think I’m out of your league, do you?”

  “Look in a mirror lately? Or taken a good look at me underneath all this… down?” Noah patted his coat.

  Time for honesty. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were dead sexy. Still do.”

  That brought a slight flush to Noah’s cheeks, along with a shy smile. “Yeah? But I’m just an unemployed marketing schlump, while you… you’re only a cape and tights away from being Superman.”

  Bryce was opening his mouth to respond when the alarm blared. “Dammit! Gotta go!” He cast a desperate look at Noah before hurtling down the stairs.

  SEVEN

  Dear Ruth,

  It turns out the man I had a secret crush on is gay and had a secret crush on me. And he kissed me and it was fucking amazing and I never wanted it to stop. But even now that I know my feelings are reciprocated, I’m still confused because God, he’s really great, and I’m the whiny guy who screws relationships up and

  And writing an advice-seeking letter to himself wasn’t helping one bit. Bryce deleted the whole thing.

  The Christmas Eve fire had turned out to be a big one. Someone in one of those ancient Victorian heaps in the ritzy part of town had let their Christmas tree dry out. Not only was that house engulfed in flames, but the fire had spread to the place next door, a larger heap that had been vacant for years. Firehouses from neighboring communities contributed manpower and equipment to manage the blaze. Fortunately nobody was hurt, but both structures burned to the ground, and the family with the neglected Christmas tree lost everything. By the time it was all over and the basic cleanup complete, it was late. Bryce took a long hot shower at the station and collapsed into a deep sleep on one of the cots.

  Christmas Day dawned with a skeleton crew on shift. The other guys were playing cards in the firehouse lounge, but Bryce had hidden himself in his office. He wasn’t ready to confront them over the whole Noah thing—not when he didn’t have his own mind straight on the matter. Mostly he found himself staring out the tiny window, where huge white flakes drifted down, adding to the thickening blanket on Main Street.

  “A winter wonderland,” he murmured.

  On a whim he picked up his phone and called Alma. “Merry Christmas,” he said when she answered.

  “And to you. Did you get any rest last night?”

  “Yeah. I crashed at the station.”

  “Any official word on the cause of the fire?”

  “Christmas tree.”

  She clucked her tongue. “Too bad. Well, considering that the Shaffers own an insurance agency, I’m sure they had decent coverage.”

  “Do they have a place to stay?”

  “I hear they’re with family in Lauper. Have you eaten today?”

  He laughed. “We still have tons of leftovers from yesterday. Your feast is all set for tonight?”

  “It is. Jennifer and Bobby are already here with their families, so nobody’s out driving, and we’re cozy as bugs in a rug. You’re positive you won’t join us? We always have room for more.”

  He was surprised to find himself tempted. But he said, “No, thanks. God knows whose tree is going to cause an inferno tonight. Give everyone my love, okay?”

  “Will do. Merry Christmas, honey.”

  His heart felt a little lighter after he hung up, and if there was an afterlife, he imagined his mother nodding in approval. “Miss you, Mom,” he whispered. This time it hurt only a bit.

  After staring some more at the falling snow, he decided to leave things be with Noah for the moment. Let thoughts settle until after the holidays, and then… then everything would magically make sense and he’d have all the answers. Maybe Santa would bring him solutions to his personal dilemmas. That should all fit down the chimney. Too bad Bryce hadn’t thought to hang a stocking.

  Dammit! He had to take some action! And suddenly he knew exactly what to do.

  The crew looked up from their card game when he appeared. One of the men, a guy named Perry, leered at Bryce. “Hey, Reynolds, are you and that guy—”

  “Don’t. Don’t even start or you’re going to be coiling hoses until your arms fall off.”

  “But are you coiling your hose, Reynolds?” Perry asked with a chortle.

  “Ha. I’m glad to know your fireman-related innuendos are as good as any twelve-year-old’s. Do we still have that old gear lying around someplace?”

  “Most of it, yeah. The chief hasn’t figured out what to do with it. I suggested the landfill. Why?”

  Bryce nodded briskly. “The chief won’t notice if a helmet goes missing, will he?”

  “Nope. And a safe fireman always wears a helmet, right?”

  Ignoring the laughter, Bryce glanced around. “Where’s the old gear stored?”

  “That closet,” Perry answered, pointing.

  The space was dark and smelled like mildew and feet. But Bryce pawed through it anyway, grunting with triumph when he unearthed a helmet, an intact belt, and a flashlight. The helmet and belt were dirty and the light had a small crack, but he figured that only added to their authenticity. He stuffed them in a canvas gear bag that was probably older than he was, and then he stepped back into the lounge. “I don’t suppose anybody has some ribbon?”

  That question was never answered because the alarm began to blast. The crew abandoned their cards, Bryce dropped the bag, and everyone hurried to gear up. “Two-car injury accident. Seventeenth and Monroe,” Perry called.

  That was just two blocks from Bryce’s house.

  Technically the whole crew didn’t need to muster out for this call, but nobody had anything better to do. The engine roared out of the bay with the rescue truck right behind. The slick streets slowed their progress, but from the fire engine’s front seat, Bryce admired how the red emergency flashers illuminated the falling snow, as if adding to the holiday cheer.

  Three squad cars had already arrived, and cops in heavy winterwear swarmed the scene. A big pickup truck appeared to have T-boned a sedan. There was no smoke or fire, but pieces of metal and plastic were scattered widely over the area. One cop leaned toward the sedan window, apparently talking to the driver, while another three provided first aid to a figure lying flat in the snow. A few bystanders stood in their front yards, ignoring the falling snow as they watched. Mrs. Foster waved at Bryce, who waved back.

  He was about to start shouting orders when he caught sight of the last cop, a guy he’d gone to high school with. He was kneeling on the sidewalk next to a standing child. His hand rested on the shoulder of a familiar green parka accessorized with a red-and-gold scarf.

  Oh, fuck. No no no no.

  “Harper!” Heart racing, Bryce turned to Perry. “You take over, okay? Please. I need—”

  “Got it. Go to her, man.”

  Harper saw Bryce running toward her and rushed to meet him, throwing herself into his arms with a noisy wail. He tried to look at her as he held her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  Instead of answering, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and sobbed.

  The cop stood and joined them. “She was in a car
seat. She’s fine. Scared is all.” He patted Harper’s back, but she didn’t loosen her grip on Bryce.

  Although Bryce was enormously relieved to know she was unharmed, his heart still felt like a chunk of heavy ice. “Her father?” he asked quietly. He wanted to shout.

  The officer pointed at the sedan. “He’s shook up a little, a few cuts and bruises probably. Way better off than that unlucky bast—” He glanced guiltily at Harper. “—gentleman.”

  Bryce’s legs went slightly wobbly, and he took a few steadying breaths. “Good. Good” was all he could say. He was trying not to puke.

  Seemingly oblivious to Bryce’s stormy mental state, the cop shrugged and shook his head. “Looks like the guy in the truck ran a stop sign, probably speeding. No seat belt. I’ve cited that SOB twice over the past couple years for DUI. I bet he’s blitzed.”

  “Crap. Look, I’ll take charge of Harper, okay? I know her.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Bryce carried Harper to the idling fire engine and sat her in the passenger seat. By the time he’d draped an emergency blanket over her shoulders, her tears had stopped and she was looking around with interest. “Can I do the sirens?” she asked.

  “Not right now, sweetheart. We don’t want to disturb everyone while they’re working.” He’d calmed himself enough to speak steadily and soothingly. That was good.

  “We crashed.”

  “I know. But it’s going to be all right.”

  “I think our car’s broken.”

  He shot a look through the windshield. Broken, oh yeah. Totaled most likely. “Your daddy will get it fixed, or else he’ll get a new one. Don’t worry. Where were you guys going, anyway?”

  “Daddy burned the ham and we didn’t have any dinner for Christmas, so we were going to the gas station ’cause they got pizza. I like pizza.”

  Bryce chuckled, and the lump of ice in his heart slowly thawed. The convenience store gas station by the highway was probably the only business open today. Noah must have been attempting to salvage what he could of holiday cheer. “Does your daddy have a lot of kitchen disasters?”

  “Lots and lots.”

  “Well, as soon as this mess is cleaned up, I’m sure he’ll get you something to eat.”

  “Okay.”

  An ambulance took the injured truck driver away. A few minutes later, Noah finished with the police officer and walked toward the fire engine. He limped a little and had a Band-Aid over one eyebrow. When Noah drew close, Bryce helped Harper down from the cab, and she ran into her father’s arms. He scooped her up, holding her tightly.

  They made a vivid tableau, their clothes bright against the snow, the emergency lights flashing, cops and firemen and tow truck drivers moving around behind them. Noah and Harper were oblivious to it all—at the moment, they were a universe unto themselves.

  “Family,” Bryce said through a tight throat as he watched them. “Such a beautiful family.”

  And a funny thing happened. As the snow continued to spiral down like giant confetti, Bryce knew with certainty that he wanted to be a part of that beautiful family. He even believed they might want it too.

  And he knew, so clearly, what his first step should be.

  Noah approached the engine, still carrying Harper. Bryce hopped down to meet them. For a long moment, he and Noah simply stared at each other.

  It was Bryce who spoke first. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I could take you to the hospital and have them check you out.”

  “The paramedic already did, and she said I’m good to go.”

  Bryce gave a jerky nod. “You’ll be stiff in the morning. Your muscles.”

  “I can live with that.”

  Another long moment of silence while Bryce tried to gather his courage. Noah set Harper down, and she immediately scrambled over to converse with an idle member of the fire crew.

  “Look,” Noah finally said. “It’s cold out here. I need to get Harper home and find something to feed her. There was an incident with the ham.”

  “I heard.” Bryce took a deep breath. This was scarier than running into a burning building. “How about if you guys join me for dinner at a friend’s house instead? They’re nice people. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

  “I thought you had to work.”

  “I did. But there’s someone I can call to cover my shift. He’ll be happy for an excuse to escape his in-laws.”

  “I don’t want your pity!”

  Bryce held up his hands. “I don’t pity you. Actually, I envy you.” When Noah looked incredulous, Bryce sighed. “Look. I can be kind of slow on the uptake. Obviously. And yesterday when you— Well, you really took me by surprise. I don’t deal well with surprises.”

  “I’d think that would be a liability in your line of work.” A hint of lightness had appeared in Noah’s eyes, and although it was hard to tell with the parka, Bryce thought Noah’s shoulders seemed slightly less tense.

  “If the surprise involves towering flames and screaming sirens, then I’m okay. But when it involves kisses from the man I’ve been dreaming about, I stumble.”

  “Dreaming about?”

  “All night. All day. Fantasies, reveries. You name it.”

  “What’s included in those dreams?” Definitely the start of a smile on that handsome face.

  “Well, to begin with, this.”

  Echoing Noah’s move from the previous day, Bryce surged forward, took Noah in his arms, and kissed him. But this kiss was different. Today Noah grabbed him back, and despite the frigid temperature and drifting snow, this kiss was heated. Scorching. An air-fed propane torch burns at thirty-six hundred degrees Fahrenheit, but this kiss felt hotter than that. The first kiss had been a shock, a test, but this one was a promise, a pledge for all the bright things to come.

  And it was also accompanied by the hoots and applause of the entire on-duty emergency personnel of Bailey Springs.

  Audience notwithstanding, Bryce would have happily swooped Noah into a fireman’s carry and taken him to Bryce’s house—to his bed. But when they momentarily parted to catch their breath, Harper dashed to them and tried to embrace them both at once.

  Yes, Bryce decided. This was definitely what family felt like.

  “Why don’t you guys go home and get ready for dinner?” he suggested. “I’ll catch a ride to the firehouse so I can drive my truck back here.” And pick up a present—but he’d surprise Harper with that later. He didn’t have a gift for Noah, but judging from the blaze in Noah’s eyes, they’d find something to exchange after Harper was asleep.

  “And when you get back here with your truck?” asked Noah, smiling widely.

  “We go to the Bernards’ for Christmas dinner and good company. Then we return to my house and watch holiday movies until we can’t stand them any longer. Maybe I can massage some of the aches out of your body.”

  “I have the feeling you’re going to alleviate a lot of my aches.” Noah briefly laid a hand over his heart. Then, with Harper still clutching their legs, he pulled Bryce’s forehead against his own. “Merry Christmas, Bryce.”

  “You know what, Noah? It really, really is.”

  EIGHT

  One year later….

  Dear Bailey Springs,

  This column will be on hiatus for two weeks while I’m on vacation with my husband and stepdaughter. They’ve promised to show me California’s many delights. If all goes as planned, we’ll be celebrating this Christmas by hanging out with a giant mouse and his friends and then dipping our toes in the Pacific Ocean.

  Here’s some unsolicited advice to last you while I’m gone.

  Make sure your Christmas trees stay well-hydrated and your electrical circuits aren’t overloaded. Check your smoke detector batteries. Practice escape routines in case of emergencies. Don’t burn wrapping paper or pine boughs in your fireplace. Drive safely, especially on slick roads. And hug your loved ones often and tell them how much you
care.

  Happy holidays to you all!

  —Ruth’s Son

  KIM FIELDING is very pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. Her books have won Rainbow Awards and span a variety of genres. She has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and currently lives in California, where she long ago ran out of bookshelf space. She’s a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full-time. She also dreams of having two perfectly behaved children, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a house that cleans itself. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others.

  Blogs: kfieldingwrites.com and

  www.goodreads.com/author/show/4105707.Kim_Fielding/blog

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/KFieldingWrites

  Email: kim@kfieldingwrites.com

  Twitter: @KFieldingWrites

  By Kim Fielding

  Alaska

  Anyplace Else

  Astounding!

  The Border

  Brute

  Dear Ruth

  Grateful

  A Great Miracle Happened There

  Grown-up

  Housekeeping

  Motel. Pool.

  Night Shift

  Once Upon a Time in the Weird West (Multiple Author Anthology)

  Pilgrimage

  The Pillar

  Phoenix

  Rattlesnake

  With Venona Keyes: Running Blind

  Saint Martin’s Day

  Speechless • The Gig

  Steamed Up (Dreamspinner Anthology)

  The Tin Box

  Venetian Masks

  Violet’s Present

  BONES

  Good Bones

  Buried Bones

  Bone Dry

  The Gig

  DREAMSPUN BEYOND

  #8 – Ante Up

  GOTHIKA

  Stitch (Multiple Author Anthology)