Forged by Fire: A Small Town Second Chance Romance

by Cleveland, Eddie

  “Like when I was little and scared of just about everything, like most kids I was afraid of the dark. I mean, what wasn’t there to be scared of? There were weird noises and creepy shadows all around. What can I say? It freaked me out. Truth be told, I was terrified. That was, until Bob talked to me about it. He sat down with me one night and asked me what was keeping me up. So, I told him there was the sound the crickets make, like a rusty door opening slowly. And on top of that, there were two shadows. In my mind, one looked like a man with a hat and a briefcase. Try not to get too scared now, right?” He chuckles. “And one that looked like a bear.”

  Byron’s eyes twinkle with the memory and a genuine smile slides over his face as he recounts his time with my father.

  “Bob told me I was listening and seeing everything all wrong. Didn’t I know that those crickets didn’t sound like a rusty door? He told me.” Byron’s freshly shaved chin shakes and his voice grows tight. He looks down at his papers as his eyes fill up with tears. “He said that’s what the pearly gates sound like when Heaven gets a new angel.” His voice cracks and those tears slide down his face. I wipe away the same fat tears from my own cheeks and wonder, yet again, where Karen is.

  It takes a second for him to breathe through it, but my uncle composes himself and continues, “And those shadows, the one of the man with the briefcase, well, to him that looked like Superman with his cape flapping in the wind. The bear? Clearly, that was nothing more than a harmless snowman. And who doesn’t love a snowman, right?”

  Byron pulls a hanky from his pocket and wipes his nose with it. For a moment, he looks up at the ceiling and swallows hard. It’s not until his eyes fall back on his daughter that he gets it back under control. “So, Bob had this amazing ability to make you see things differently. Whether it was shadows on the wall, or your own ability, or letting go of a grudge against a neighbor, he just had this gift for making you see the best. In the people in our community, in yourself, and yes, even in meaningless patches of darkness on bedroom walls.”

  Suddenly the doors to the church fling open and everyone turns in their seats to look down the aisle. Not so silently stomping inside is the Baker family. All of them. Karen’s the only one whose face is stained crimson. The rest of them look mostly indifferent to storming in halfway through the funeral. My arms cross my chest and I find myself agreeing to the murmurs of disapproval being whispered through the church.

  I turn back to the front, my attention on my uncle Byron, but he’s clearly frazzled by the interruption. He looks down at his papers, shuffling through them, trying to find his spot. Karen slips into the pew next to me and grabs my hand in hers. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “We’re so trashy showing up late like this. I tried to get here sooner, but I’m stuck with them.” She sniffles. I glance at her pale face. Her red-rimmed eyes are filled with shame.

  “It’s not your fault.” I pat her hand. The words do nothing to soothe her, though. I can see she’s convinced she’s one of them. Just a junkyard Rapunzel, stuck in her tower with no one to save her.

  I was supposed to save her.

  But there’s no way I can go to New York now. I can’t leave my mother in this state. And I can’t ask Karen to stay behind. The same way my father had a way of making people see the best in things, the Bakers have a way of making her see the worst. For as long as she has to live under their roof, she’ll always see herself as a sad princess trapped by scrap metal, until one day, that’s all she’ll ever be fit to be.

  “It’s no person’s right on this earth to stand in the way of anyone’s dreams.” My father’s voice echoes in my ear. I swear I hear him like he’s right beside me. Like we’re back at the fire station and he’s giving me that smile again. I can see him. So fucking clearly. And then he’s gone.

  Forever.

  Dad was right. I can’t keep Karen here any more than he wanted to keep me here. It just isn’t right. She needs to go.

  Finally, the church settles back into peace and everyone focuses back on Byron at the front. Even though the interruption shook my uncle, he seems ready to continue his tribute to my father. His brother.

  “And so, as we lay Bob to rest, I’d ask that we all pay him the same kindness he’s paid us all his life. He would be the first to remind every single one of us who put on this uniform that our bonds are as close as any family. That we are all forged by fire. So, please, when you remember Bob, remember that he lived each day just like he died: as a hero. In closing, I’d like to read a poem written by another firefighter named A.W. “Smokey” Linn back in 1958. It’s called “A Fireman’s Prayer,” and I know Bob loved it.”

  Byron wipes his nose with his hanky and takes a deep breath, standing even taller, if that’s possible.

  “When I am called to duty, God, whenever flames may rage;

  Give me strength to save some life, whatever be its age.

  Help me embrace a little child before it is too late,

  Or save an older person from the horror of that fate.

  Enable me to be alert and hear the weakest shout,

  And quickly and efficiently to put the fire out.

  I want to fill my calling and to give the best in me,

  To guard my every neighbor and protect his property.

  And if, according to my fate, I am to lose my life;

  Please bless with your protecting hand my

  children and my wife.”

  I can’t hold back my tears anymore. No one can. Anyone who’s managed to stay stoic is now crying along with me. They’re sharing my pain. And you’d think that knowing he touched this many people, that it would help ease this hurt. But it just twists up like a dagger in my already bleeding heart.

  “So, tonight,” Byron manages to speak through his tears, “when you hear the crickets chirping in the distance, please know it’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just Heaven welcoming one more angel, my big-little brother, with open arms.”

  10

  Luke

  The parade of well-wishers and hand-patters finally stop trying to talk to me and settles around the long buffet of casseroles and piles of food instead. I glance across the room and seeing my mother in the middle of the crowd reminds me of Leah, the woman whose house burned down. Of course, after losing her husband in the fire she’s going through her own grief. Then, with the burns her son suffered, she hasn’t left his side for a second, not even to attend my father’s funeral. I think that’s understandable, though.

  If I’d gone through something like that when I was three you wouldn’t have been able to pry my dad from my side. Anyway, Mom reminds me of Leah right now, not in looks or circumstance, but in the way the entire community has banded around her. Literally. When you step back and look into the kitchen, she’s at the epicenter of the room and the crowd is just whirling around her, trying to keep her comfortable and holding her back from doing anything drastic.

  “You look a bit green,” Karen whispers. “Wanna go for a walk and get some fresh air?” She threads her fingers through mine and, without taking my eyes off Mom, I nod.

  “Fresh air sounds good,” I admit. I’m not actually sure when the last time I got outside was. Was it that night? Have I really been cooped up inside the whole time since then? I think I have. Even with the fire department working out the details of the funeral, there’s still been a ton of little things to iron out for my mother. Everything from getting her name on the household bills to helping her pick a dress to wear. I didn’t realize how exhausted I am until now.

  “Let’s go.” She leads me toward the front door and I take one more peek over at Mom. Byron and my cousin are by her side. Most of the firefighters are. For some reason, Karen’s family didn’t bother staying for more than ten minutes. The rest of the men and women who volunteered with Dad are here, though. And every single one of them is doing everything they can for my mom.

  We step outside and I blink at the darkness. How long have we been in there? When we came home it was bright an
d almost cheerful outside. The chipper songs from the birds up in the cloudless blue sky pissed me off. It just seemed disrespectful. Like the weather, or Mother Nature, or whatever should have had more reverence for the man we buried today.

  Now, those blue skies have faded to black and the birds have all gone to bed. Stars guide us down the road as we wordlessly make our way to the park. The same set of slides and swings Karen and I used to play on as children is calling us back home. As we settle into the large seats suspended by thick chains, I realize how comforting it is to sit on these same swings our fathers once pushed us on.

  Gone are the days of under-ducks and childish games of tag, but the safe, warm feeling that surrounds this place is still the same. It’s funny how the park has become a halfway house between childhood and adulthood. A place where lost teenagers still roam, most of the time with cigarettes or beer cans in hand. Like the camel in Raggedy Ann and Andy, we just can’t resist the welcoming comforts of home. We’re drawn to parks because they’re relics of a time when we felt safe and cared for. We return to them in times like this, searching for everything we lost along the way to this great lie of adulthood.

  “How are you doing?” Karen leans around the chain and peeks over at me.

  “Don’t, please.”

  “What?”

  “Listen, for the past week all I’ve been doing is answering questions like, ‘How you doing, buddy?’ and ‘You holding up okay?’ Please don’t make me do that with you too. You want to know how I’m doing? Shitty.”

  “Sorry.” She scuffs the edges of her shoes against the gravel.

  “Yeah, me too.” I realize I just snapped at her for no reason. Just stress and exhaustion and grief and a million other things that aren’t her fault.

  Silence wraps around us like the little blanket fort we made love in the night ... that night … for the first time, it occurs to me that I’ll never be able to think about the highest high of my life, having sex for the first time, without also remembering my lowest low. Just like everything in this town, it’s all one more reminder of what I no longer have.

  “I bet I can swing higher than you.” Karen tilts back until her hair is almost touching the ground and then pumps her legs until she’s rocking back and forth on the swing.

  “Oh, is that right?” I kick my feet forward and welcome the distraction. We soar up to the black sky, neck and neck, until my feet kick so close to the stars I almost feel like if I launched off this swing right now I might leave this planet.

  Would that be a bad thing?

  For a second I let myself get lost in the idea. Of floating away, or still taking that plane to New York. I imagine the life we were going to have there. Walking down bustling streets, arm in arm, with no money and no worries. We’d be happy to be squished together with roommates in some tiny apartment, staying up late talking and fighting and fucking and eating. My legs pump harder and I go even higher. Much higher than when I was a kid and used to think that if I tried hard enough I’d manage to be a living urban legend of the boy who swung right over the top bar.

  In my mind, I’m free. With Karen, across the country, without a single care in the world.

  And where’s your mother?

  At home, talking on the couch to your dead dad? Lonely and depressed, never getting out of bed? Sitting at home, completely alone while you’re out wandering around New York?

  I swing up and then push off and leap into the air. For one wild second, I’m flying. Until I realize that just like the safety of this park, just like the lies of how fun it is to be an adult, it’s just an illusion. Of course I’m not flying, I’m falling.

  Fast.

  I crumple to the ground and Karen yelps with surprise, “Luke! Oh no, are you hurt?” She scuffs her shoes against the gravel until it’s safe to leap from the swing and tends to me.

  “I’m fine,” I growl, pushing her off and standing up.

  “It’s no person’s right on this earth to stand in the way of anyone’s dreams.” I hear him, like he’s right behind me. Hell, I can almost feel his heavy hand on my shoulder, still guiding me from beyond the grave to do the right thing.

  I stare at Karen and frown. “The thing is,” I start to confess, “I can’t go to New York.” My words are as numb and emotionless as my heart right now.

  “I get that.” She bites her lip and crosses her arms. “I figured you’d need more time.” She’s so understanding. It makes me cringe, because I know what’s coming next, and I know I can’t allow it. “So, I’ll wait another year before I go. No biggie.” She shrugs.

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh-huh.” She moves toward me, arms open.

  “Wouldn’t you need to reapply then?” I grab her arms and keep her at a distance. I know that if she starts hugging me and if I pull her close, I’ll never be able to let her go.

  “That’s right,” she mumbles. Her eyebrows cock up as she tilts her head and searches my face. “What’s going on, Luke?”

  “Nothing,” I lie, still keeping her back. “So, what if you apply again but don’t get in next time? Didn’t you say they only accept thirty applicants a year?”

  “Well, I got accepted this year. Why wouldn’t they say yes again?”

  I can’t risk it. I can’t be the reason she gets that rejection letter in three hundred days. I refuse to be an anchor keeping her locked in this place, this town, that scrapyard. I won’t stand between her and her dreams.

  “No, you need to go. I have to stay, not you. There’s no reason for you to hang around Pine Grove anymore. Go to New York.” My voice stiffens as I try to cut the emotions from flowing inside me. I try not to register the pain on her face. This is what’s best for her. It’s what she needs to do.

  “Go? Without you? No way.” Karen steps in again and tries to hug me, but I cross my arms and step back.

  “Trust me, you’ll be doing us both a favor.” My tone goes from distant to frosty as I force myself to shut down inside. This is what’s best for her. Best for my mom. The only one who really loses out here is me, and since I just lost my hero, I guess a bit more pain piled on really doesn’t matter.

  “What are you talking about?” Karen stops trying to hug me as hurt dances in her brown eyes.

  “Listen, did you really think I wanted to go all the way out to the East Coast to work some McCrappy job while you go to school? Oh wow, what a fucking deal for me.” I wave my hands around sarcastically. “Where do I sign up?” I roll my eyes.

  “You don’t mean that,” she scoffs. “We’ve talked about this. I know you’re excited to go. We can just wait a year and do it then. It’s no biggie.” She forces a half-smile that I know she uses when she’s trying to hide how hurt she is.

  No biggie, unless next year she’s rejected. Unless something else puts another monkey wrench in her plans. Unless her stupid family wears her down to the point she doesn’t see the point in leaving. No.

  “Karen, you’re smarter than this.” I hate myself for patronizing her, but I know it’s a big red button that sets her off and it’s easy to push. “Listen to me, I never wanted to go with you, got it? Never. The only reason I said all that shit is because I was trying to get laid.” I’m talking to her like she’s a preschooler learning the alphabet for the first time. “And guess what? Now that we did it, turns out fucking you ain’t that great, so I’m not going all the way out to New York with you to be some minimum wage slave for bad sex and a dead relationship. Thanks but no thanks.”

  I can see the last glimmers of hope dying out in her eyes like the fading streaks of rosy sunlight across the sunset. I want to shut my mouth. I want to tell her I’m lying. That I love her with my entire body, mind, and soul. But if I do that, if I tell her the truth, she may never get out of here.

  She deserves more than that. She deserves more than me.

  “Stop it!” she yells. “Why are you being such an asshole? I know you just lost your dad, but that’s no reason to take it out on me. I’m trying to be nice,
Luke.” Her chin quivers and I know it’s almost a done deal.

  “I don’t want nice, Karen,” I lie. “And I don’t want you. This is over. Go to New York. I don’t want to see you anymore. The only thing this has to do with Dad is him passing made me realize life is too short to waste on things you don’t want. I don’t want you, get it? You’re not worth it.”

  Karen’s eyes flash and her hand leaves a stinging slap on my cheek. Just before she turns away from me, just before I watch her walk out of my life forever, just before the love she once had turns to hate, I see the tears in her eyes, and it kills me.

  I want to chase after her. I want to apologize and beg her to come back, but I stand perfectly still and watch her walk away. Walk out of my life and toward the future she deserves. One where she isn’t burdened by my problems or chipped away by her family. One where she’ll find all the happiness I thought we’d share together, without me.

  11

  Karen

  It took both vehicles to get us all to the airport, but my family insisted on seeing me off properly. That’s how it is when you’re the baby of the family. Even now Mama keeps fussing over me.

  “And you’ll call at your stop-over, right?”

  “I will, Mama.”

  “And again when you get into New York?”

  “Of course.”

  “And it wouldn’t hurt to give another quick call when you get to your place.” Her voice is strained, and she keeps rubbing her hands down her thick arms like she’s got a chill she can’t shake.

  “Sure.” I shake my head, but inside it feels kind of nice that she cares so much. They all do. And, unlike at Bob’s funeral, it’s actually a relief to have them all here right now. It’s difficult to let your nerves take over when you’re surrounded by a big bunch of burly Baker boys.

  “Leave the girl be, will ya? You’re gonna put her in the poor house with all those long-distance calls. She’s fine, ain’t ya?” Dad gives me a curt nod. He hasn’t made much of a fuss over me leaving, but I know that’s just his way. Back when he was growing up, boys who cried got beaten even harder. If you asked anyone in Pine Grove, they’d tell you Clyde Baker is the toughest son of a bitch in town, but I know better.