The Fireman's Son

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “But what?”

  “Do you think other kids didn’t like me because of my old dad?”

  Listen to your heart. Let it guide you. Sara’s words came back to her.

  “No. Do you?”

  “Sometimes.”

  It was the first she’d ever heard of it. Ever.

  “Why? Did someone say something?”

  “No.”

  “But you thought they didn’t like you for some reason?”

  “Well...”

  She waited.

  You were entrusted with this child to raise because something in the universe thinks you have what it takes to do so...

  Something else she’d heard along the way.

  “Frank isn’t your father, Elliott. You aren’t anything like him.”

  “But I sleepwalk. And junk.”

  “That’s not your fault. No one blames you. And even so, you’re working with Sara, right?”

  “I guess.”

  He didn’t sound convinced.

  “What if he doesn’t like me, Mom?”

  Her eyes flooded with tears before she could stop herself. He was so young. So sweet. Her arms ached to hold him.

  She turned toward him. “You’re his son, Elliott. He’s going to love you no matter what.”

  “My old dad didn’t like me.”

  “Frank was a bad man, sweetie. The things he liked weren’t good. You are good.” Where the words came from, she didn’t know.

  “But what if Reese doesn’t like me?”

  “He’ll like you, Elliott. You’re funny and smart and interesting. You’re good at pretty much everything when you try hard.”

  “I wasn’t so good at making cakes.” He laughed. “That splatter that hit your nose, remember?”

  She’d forgotten. He’d been about four. He’d wanted to help in the kitchen and she’d let him hold the hand mixer in a bowl of cake batter for a second before she took over. She hadn’t turned it on, hoping he’d be satisfied just to hold it.

  Instead, he’d known how to turn it on. Full speed. By the time she’d taken the mixer and turned it off, there’d been chocolate batter all over the counter, the wall, their hair.

  And under her nose.

  “You dad is going to like you even if you aren’t good at anything,” she told him now. “Because he’s your dad and that’s just how it works.”

  “He won’t like me if I’m mean to you.”

  Her entire being slowed down.

  “How do you know that?”

  “He told me.”

  “When?”

  “Today when we were in the woods.”

  She wanted to know exactly what Reese had said. Word for word. Wanted to know like a kid in school who had a crush on a boy.

  Like how the young Faye had wanted to know exactly what Reese had said when she’d had her friend ask him if he liked her.

  She wanted to know why Reese had felt the need to speak to her son about his treatment of her. But didn’t ask that, either. Elliott’s relationship with Reese was sacred. Off-limits until one or the other wanted to share. She would not pry.

  “If you tell him that I got mad at you sometimes, he won’t like me.”

  Faye sat up. Pulled him up beside her. And practically touched her nose to his, she looked him so closely in the eye. “Elliott, in the first place, your father and I are a team where you are concerned. Our job is to help you grow up healthy and happy. Not to tattle on you or make you like one of us more than the other. In the second place, when a kid acts out, a father might have to get mad at him—punish him even by, you know, taking away a privilege like watching TV or something—but even then, he still likes him. More than that, he still loves him.”

  The boy nodded. His big blue eyes were starting to look tired. “Like you love me still even when I’m mean,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  “So I just have to wait for Dad to know me enough to love me and then he’ll like me.”

  “He already loves you, Elliott.” Reese hadn’t said so, but she knew he did. No matter how much both of them had changed or how far apart they’d grown from each other, she was positive Reese loved their son. “I can’t explain it because I don’t even understand it, but when a person has a child, they don’t have to know that child to love them. It just happens automatically.”

  He seemed to think about that. Nodded. Then asked, “Do you like him?”

  She’d been more prepared for the question that afternoon when she’d picked him up.

  “Of course I do.”

  “Do you love him?”

  How did she answer that one? Where was a truth that an eight-year-old would understand?

  “Yes, Elliott, I do.” She kept it short and simple. No other words came.

  He nodded.

  “Is that okay with you?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. I’m just glad you do because he loves you, too, and that way we can all get along.”

  Instead of fight. Or worse. Her son had horrendous conditioning. She and Reese had a huge challenge ahead of them. One they needed to actually talk about, instead of around. As soon as possible.

  And then it hit her.

  “You asked him if he loved me?” Her stomach swirled. Her heart pounded.

  “Yeah. When he was telling me about knowing you before.”

  And the answer had been positive.

  To appease the boy? Maybe. At least in part.

  But Reese wouldn’t out-and-out lie.

  He’d told her that afternoon that when he’d gone out with Susan, he’d found that he hadn’t been missing out on anything with Faye.

  If only she’d gone to him with her fears, asked him about the other woman...asked him why he was behaving so oddly...

  If only she’d nursed her broken heart in a less destructive way...

  If-onlys were the path to bitterness. She wasn’t going to let evil win. Not completely. Not where she could still make a difference.

  “Can I go back to sleep in my room now?” Elliott had yawned twice.

  “Of course.” She’d hoped he’d stay. But was glad he wanted to go, too. Pulling back the covers, she let him climb out of bed and watched as he left the room. She wanted to go after him. Tuck him in. But she had a feeling that he’d feel like too much of a baby if she did so.

  The last thing she wanted, as her son went off to spend a day with his father for the first time, was to have him feeling like a baby.

  Or to have Reese thinking she’d raised his son to be one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  WHEN THE RING of his phone woke him, Reese was already halfway out of bed before he answered it. A firefighter first and foremost, he reached for a pair of jeans with his free hand.

  “Reese?”

  Fear sliced through him when he heard her voice.

  He hadn’t even looked at the caller ID. A middle of the night call meant a fire.

  “Yeah? What’s wrong? Is Elliott sick? Did he hurt himself sleepwalking?” Scenarios played through his mind as he continued to dress with one hand.

  “Elliott’s asleep in his bed,” she said, which was when he realized she was completely calm. And that it was just after midnight.

  “I’m sorry if I woke you. I needed to speak with you before you pick him up in the morning. Without him knowing...”

  Elliott had called him earlier that evening to tell him his mother said it was fine if they went to the beach the next day. He’d insisted that the boy put his mother on the phone and Faye had confirmed her approval, as well as made the arrangements for a pickup time. He’d thought all was well between them.

  As well as they were going to be for ex-lovers who’d just found out
they were going to be raising their child together.

  “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “He’s worried you aren’t going to like him but I think it’s more than that. He’s confused about our relationship and where he fits into it.”

  Everything stilled within him. “What did you tell him?”

  “That we both want the same thing, for him to grow up healthy and happy, and that we are going to work together to see that happen.”

  He started breathing easier again. But, in jeans that were on and not zipped, no shirt, and barefoot, he went to the kitchen for a beer. Just in case.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “He asked me if I love you.”

  He gulped. Then, before she could say more, could tell him how she’d answered, he blurted, “He asked me, too.”

  “I know, he told me. And I gave him the same answer you did. The thing is...”

  She was saying more. He was back on her answer. The same as his. And sipping his beer.

  “...he’s afraid, Reese...”

  He tuned back in and wished to God he knew what they were talking about.

  “Afraid of what?”

  “I’m only guessing, but his only experience of a father in his life is someone who hurt me. And someone I tried to please so I wouldn’t get hurt.”

  Setting the bottle down, Reese dropped to a kitchen chair, elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor. “He needs to know that I’m going to treat you well.”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Words aren’t going to convince him.”

  “No.”

  “Have I ever treated you badly?”

  “No.”

  “So we should be okay, then.”

  “I think we need to be friendly with each other. Around him.”

  She was right, of course. He’d known where this was going.

  They loved each other. Or had in another lifetime and some of it was still with them. “I’m good with that, if you are.” For Elliott’s sake.

  “Me, too.”

  Picking up his beer, he took a big gulp. “Is that all then?”

  “One more thing...”

  He’d thought so. Meaning that he still knew her at least a little bit? “What?”

  “We need some kind of system. So that we aren’t blindsided by him like I was this afternoon when he said you’d take him to the beach. I hadn’t even known he’d asked you.”

  He hadn’t thought anything of the boy’s call, other than to be a bit...pleased...that he’d received it. And so soon.

  But he kind of saw her point.

  “I need to tell him I’ll talk to you about it,” he said.

  “I’d appreciate it if you would.”

  “All you have to do is ask, Faye. It’s all you ever needed to do. You just never do.” Why in the hell had he said that?

  “Never? We’ve been co-parents for less than twenty-four hours.”

  “I meant in the past, and forget I said it. It was wrong. I didn’t mean it.”

  “No, Reese, this is just what I’m talking about. If either one of us has stuff simmering beneath the surface, Elliott can be hurt by it. He’s a smart kid and he’s also incredibly sensitive. So tell me, what did you mean?”

  It really was nothing. Frustration. But for the good of the boy, he tried to put into words why he thought he might have said it.

  “It’s...just...you make it hard for a guy...for me...to know what you expect from me, Faye. That’s what I remember from the past. Never knowing what you needed. Like I was supposed to read your mind all the time. I’m a guy. So...all I’m saying is...in the future...if you need something...just ask.”

  “You mean like I just did? When I called you tonight?”

  No. He sipped his beer and thought about letting it go. “But you didn’t, Faye. You told me that we needed a system. And waited for me to come up with what you really needed—for me to come to you when Elliott asks for something that requires your approval or input.”

  The silence that hung on the line had him helping himself to another gulp of beer.

  “I used to do that to you? Make you guess all the time?”

  “Worse, you just never said anything when I didn’t get it right.”

  “So at least I’ve improved.”

  “Yeah.” He’d give her that one.

  “Good night, Reese.”

  “Night, Faye.” It was only after he hung up that he realized he had a hard-on.

  From talking to his abused ex-girlfriend.

  A complication he very definitely did not need.

  * * *

  OVER THE NEXT two weeks, there were three more gasoline fires. Two small ones on the beach and a not-so-small one that took down a deserted barn on a property owned by an older couple. Thankfully, they were away visiting their great-grandchildren.

  Some history was lost—plastic bins of memorabilia as well as the barn itself—but no one was hurt.

  Faye tended to a stroke victim, four car accidents—one fatality—and a guy who’d nearly cut off his hand on a machine at work. She was on-site for two of the three gasoline fires. Those times at work, being a paramedic, were about the only times she felt strong.

  And over the next two weeks, Elliott continued to withdraw. From the kids at the Stand—including Kyle—and from Reese, too.

  That first Saturday that Reese and Elliott had gone to the beach, they’d only been gone a few minutes when they’d come back and asked her to go with them. It had been another anticlimactic day. Her and Reese sitting on the sand without much to say, watching Elliott, who played in the water. She’d cried herself to sleep that night.

  She was no longer hoping the pain would ever go away. But at some point, she was going to be out of tears.

  Some things weren’t meant to heal.

  Maybe for Elliott, too.

  The past weekend, when Reese had invited him to go fishing—something Elliott had always wanted to do—he’d declined. Said he didn’t want to go. Didn’t like to fish.

  She’d asked him if he wanted to invite Reese to go out for pizza with them and he’d said no to that, too.

  But he called his father almost every day. Faye didn’t know what they talked about. And didn’t ask.

  Elliott had been sleepwalking as much as always. There were no more late-night visits to her room. No confidences. But the one person he didn’t seem to withdraw from was her. And for the first time in years, he went two weeks without being angry with her.

  She’d had no more meetings alone with Reese. No private conversations. And no time to talk when they were together with Elliott, showing him how friendly they were.

  She dreamed about him constantly. And had been so turned on she’d woken up wet between her legs on two separate occasions. The first time, she’d been afraid she’d peed the bed. Had jumped up thoroughly embarrassed with herself until she realized what had happened.

  She thought about talking to Bloom about the situation during her weekly session but didn’t. She knew the source of the problem—a psyche trying to heal by regressing back to pre-abuse times.

  The reason Reese was the only star of her nighttime shows was because he’d been her only love before Frank. Her only pre-abuse sexual experience.

  She just hadn’t realized quite how powerful her psyche could be.

  Or that men weren’t the only ones with wet dreams.

  The only thing stable in her life was her job.

  She and Reese avoided each other at the station as they’d done since she’d been hired on. Not so much that it was obvious. They just didn’t end up in the same place at the same time unless they were on a call. And then only the scene mattered.

  And yet, she felt him there.
Every minute of every day. The father of her child in his office. Walking through the house. Working out.

  Reese, the man who’d once been her whole world. Who might still have been if he hadn’t failed to tell her when he was in crisis. If she hadn’t changed the entire course of her life.

  Reese, the man who didn’t believe in forever love anymore. And her, an abused woman who couldn’t give her love to him even if he did believe.

  What a pair they made. Two damaged people trying to save their damaged child. Two people with more regrets than they could master.

  And still, she yearned for him. Not just in a physical sense but...for him. She thought about him far more than she’d have liked, trying to see the young man who’d felt as though he had to read her mind. Felt as though he never knew what to do to please her.

  She didn’t really understand. He hadn’t had to do anything. She’d loved being with him. Still, she went around and around in her mind, replaying memories. And figured he must be remembering incorrectly.

  Or had he been misreading her back then? Perhaps he hadn’t known her as well as she’d thought.

  She wondered if he’d done anything about Elliott’s space in his home. He’d been at work pretty much every day. And he’d been back in LA at least three times, working on gasoline fire forensics.

  She wondered a lot of things. But had no answers. She was living in the eye of a tornado and had no shelter in which to hide.

  Faye wasn’t good without a plan. After two weeks of trying to step back—to let things unfold she set up a meeting with Sara.

  And found that the counselor was equally surprised that Elliott wasn’t showing any signs of change, other than phone calls with his father, and being less mean to her. The boy was more isolated than ever and wouldn’t confide in anyone.

  Unless...

  Was he confiding in Reese? Did Reese know something he wasn’t sharing? He’d checked in with Sara twice, as had been arranged, but only to say that there were no issues. Sara understood the phone calls between father and son were brief. Uneventful.

  But Reese was new at the parenting thing. What if Elliott was giving him clues that he wasn’t getting?

  If you need something...just ask.

  His words came back to her as she left Sara’s office on the second Thursday after they’d told Elliott that Reese was his father.