He helped load everything onto the belt at the checkout and reached for his wallet when the cashier asked for $58.94.
She tried to grab his hand. “I’m going to pay.”
“C’mon, Raine,” he said. “I asked you out to dinner. I would’ve paid for that, and it would’ve cost more.”
“You gave me the best day since I came to New York,” she told him. “It’s my treat. Let me give you something back.”
Her expression softened as she spoke, and his protest died. “Awright, already,” he said. “Let’s go home before we get soaked.”
Although he schooled his voice to keep the tone light, fatigue dogged him. His recent work schedule, sleepless nights, and dark thoughts weighed hard and heavy. The damp weather brought a deep ache to his bad shoulder, but he didn’t want Raine to notice his pain. Cal didn’t want anything to mar their day together or to see pity in her pretty eyes. He shifted the shopping bags to his right hand to ease the strain on the opposite side.
“How far is it?” Raine asked as a light shower began to fall.
“Couple more blocks.”
The rain intensified, and by the time they entered his building, it had become a downpour. They were both drenched and their shoes squeaked as they crossed the lobby to the elevators.
“Why do I smell donuts?” Raine asked as the elevator doors shut.
Callahan laughed. “There’s a bakery on the first floor, other side of the lobby. You can’t get to it from here, you have to go outside and around to the entrance. The first three floors have a variety of offices and stuff, like a dance studio and a couple of shops. One sells vintage clothes, if you’re interested.”
Raine glanced down at her wet clothing. “Normally, no, I’m not. Right now, though, I might take a look for anything dry.”
He laughed. “We’ll take care of that, doll, once we get to my place.”
They stepped out onto the sixteenth floor, into the familiar drab corridor. Cal wondered how it appeared to her eyes. He led her down the hall and around the corner, then unlocked his door. With a wave of his hand, he stepped back. “Go on in.”
His door opened into the kitchen, and he sighed with relief to see the sink, situated at the end of a strip of countertop to the left, empty of any dirty dishes. The cupboards above were closed, and straight ahead the stove and fridge appeared clean. An empty coffee mug rested atop the microwave oven, but he didn’t think anyone would call the single infraction messy. The dinky table with two chairs behind the door held salt and pepper shakers, yesterday’s mail, and his checkbook.
Raine’s gaze swept over the room and she grinned. “Wow, this is nice. It’s like a real kitchen, almost. I love the hardwood floors, and you even have a window.”
Her pleasure in his place puffed him up. “Yeah, I like that, too.”
Beads of water clung to the glass, but she stepped over and peered out. “It’s even got a street view.”
Callahan watched as she walked through his place, past the shelf marking the line between kitchen and living room. His laptop computer rested there, and so did the high stool he used as a seat.
In the front room, his sleeper-sofa was in couch position against the brick wall. It faced the flat-screen television hung opposite. A pair of windows overlooking the next street flanked the steam radiator. The black shoes he wore with his uniform rested in the floor, but overall he thought the place looked pretty good for a single guy. Raine walked to the windows and glanced out. “You’ve got an awesome place,” she said. “I’m glad we came here, not to mine. My apartment is really small, and the rooms are narrow.”
Cal shrugged. “It’s a place to call home. Let me grab you a towel.”
He ducked into the bathroom off the living area and returned with a couple of bath towels. In his absence, Raine had removed her jacket. She draped the sodden garment over one of the kitchen chairs and faced him with a slanted smile. “My blouse is wet, too,” she said. He could see it was, and more.
Her nipples perked prominent, and he ogled them. Goddamn, but he wanted to tweak them or take them in his mouth. Not yet, he told himself, it’s too soon. He might scare her away. “You can borrow one of my T-shirts,” he said. He dug one out of a chest beneath the room divider. “It’ll be too big, but at least it’s dry. Bathroom’s through there if you want to change and dry off a little. I don’t have a hair dryer, though. I wish I did, for your sake.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Thanks.”
After she vanished into his small bathroom and shut the door, Cal stripped down and changed into dry clothing. He put away the groceries and took six ibuprofen tablets for his shoulder. His fingers massaged the sore spot and he winced. You’d think after almost a year, it wouldn’t hurt anymore, but it does.
For a moment, as he stared through the kitchen window without seeing, he was back in the parking lot where he’d been injured, reliving the moment. Raine’s voice brought him back to the present, and he turned. She stood barefooted in the kitchen behind him. His NYPD T-shirt swamped her, but the navy blue enhanced the color of her eyes. She’d tamed her hair and pulled it into a tight, high ponytail. “I have one question,” she said.
“Shoot it to me.” He wondered, though, what she might ask and if he had anything in the bathroom that would pique curiosity.
“Do you just sleep on the sofa?”
Cal glanced at it. “Sometimes,” he replied. “It folds out into a bed, but it takes up a lot of space so many times, I don’t bother. Why?”
“It doesn’t look very comfortable, for one thing.”
He laughed. “It really is, though. Most of the time I’m so tired, it wouldn’t matter anyhow.”
Raine scrutinized him. “You look like you could use a nap. Why don’t you kick back while I cook?”
The idea appealed. He stretched his arms upward and yawned. “That sounds like a plan, but I doubt I’ll sleep. I’ll turn on the television and relax, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t or I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Raine told him. “I’ll be busy prepping and cooking.”
Her intuitive understanding acted like a balm for his restless soul. “Then okay, yeah, I will,” he said. “Thanks, Raine.”
Callahan located the remote control and sprawled on the couch with the pillows bunched under his head. Although weary to the bone, he didn’t figure on sleeping, just watching whatever game he found on TV, but as he watched the third quarter of the Notre Dame game, his eyes became heavy. Before he yielded to sleep, his mind drifted and the domestic sounds from the kitchen soothed him. Cal heard the whisper of the knife blade as she peeled potatoes, the slap and sizzle of the steak when she placed it into a skillet, and the thwack she made as she chopped the other vegetables. Raine hummed low as she worked, and although he lacked the best musical ear, he recognized it as Glenn Miller’s classic, “Sentimental Journey.” His grandmother had adored Glenn Miller and often played heavy old seventy-eight records with his sound.
As the aroma of food began to circulate through the small rooms, the familiar noise and the music bridged the past with the present. A deep contentment wove around him, as comforting as a blanket. No one had ever made a home-cooked meal in his place before, and as he grew drowsy, Cal made an effort to count the years since he’d witnessed such an event. It had to be Gran, making pot roast or fried chicken or corned beef and cabbage or something. His grandmother had been gone for seven years, a long time, but he missed her. Sometimes he thought he could still smell the sweet scent of her sachet, and as he crossed into sleep, his last conscious thought was that she would like Raine.
He woke slow and somnolent. Cal became aware of one detail at a time. Delicious smells entered his nose and brought forth a powerful hunger he hadn’t known he could summon. The sounds of the football game had been replaced with music, the pleasant, easy sounds of Mannheim Steamroller on the stereo. When he shifted position to sit up, he realized Raine had placed a blanket over him while he slept. Cal scrubbed his f
ace with both hands to remove the lingering fatigue and glanced toward the kitchen.
Raine stood at the stove, stirring a pot on one of the rear burners with a brisk motion. Outside, rain pelted the windows with a steady patter. He checked the clock and shook his head to see it was six thirty, already dark because of the cloud cover. A peace he hadn’t experienced in a long while settled over him. “Hey,” he said.
She turned toward him with a smile. “Hi, you woke up just in time. Everything’s almost ready.”
“It smells great. I think I must’ve died.”
“You must’ve been tired,” she told him.
“Yeah, no kidding.” He paused to brush one hand over his hair. “I guess I needed the rest.”
A few minutes later, they sat down to supper at his small table. She delivered two plates, each filled with a generous portion of round steak smothered with onions, mushrooms, and carrots. A mound of mashed potatoes rested beside the meat, and she brought a measuring cup filled with beef gravy and a ladle. She had poured them each a glass of root beer from the two-liter he kept in the fridge, and as she sat down across from him, she grinned. “I made brownies for dessert, too. So what do you think?”
Callahan’s mouth ached to water. “I think maybe I died, see, and this is heaven or a dream,” he told her. “I haven’t eaten like this in years. A home-cooked meal is a real treat.”
He reached for his fork and his St. Michael medal shifted position. Although he hadn’t said grace in years, it felt right, so he took her hands in his and recited the Catholic blessing he remembered from his youth. “Bless us, oh Lord, and all thy gifts which we are about to receive from the bounty of Christ, our Lord, Amen.”
To his surprise, she recited the familiar words with him. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “You’re Catholic?”
Raine nodded. “Yes, I am.”
Her response touched him. Somehow, he’d managed to meet a pretty woman in need of a little assistance and then spent the day with her. She liked him, that much came across loud and clear, and he liked her. On top of that, she shared his faith. Raised in the church, he hadn’t attended Mass on a regular basis for some time, but in his heart he still believed, and he’d be Catholic till he died. And now, so was she. What are the odds on that? Maybe miracles do happen, or maybe I just caught some good luck for a change. All he knew in this quiet, glad moment was that he wanted to spend more time with Raine. Her presence converted his apartment into a home.
Callahan lacked the ability to put all that in words, and even if he possessed it, he didn’t think he would speak. He wouldn’t risk diminishing this light in his darkness. When he tasted his first bite of the smothered steak, he sighed. The fork-tender meat melted on his tongue, and the vegetables enhanced the flavor. “Damn,” he said. “That’s good.”
Raine beamed. “Thanks. Cooking is one thing I can do.”
The delicious meal filled his belly and kept his mood mellow. Somehow the food and light conversation nurtured his soul as well as body. Afterward, Cal offered to help clean up, but Raine waved him away with one hand. “I cooked, I clean,” she told him. Then she transferred the empty plates and silverware to the sink. “I don’t suppose you have an apron?”
An image of a silly apron he’d seen somewhere that read Kiss The Cook flashed into his head. “No,” he said. He came to his feet and pulled her into his arms. “But I can pay for that fine dinner with this.”
He kissed her, tasting the meal they’d shared on her lips, savoring the softness of her mouth against his. Unlike earlier, Callahan took his time and made the kiss into a long, slow caress. For the first moments, Raine stood still in his arms, then she put her hands on top of each shoulder and rested against him. As his mouth explored hers, she moved her lips against his. Although he’d kissed many women since his teens, none affected him with the same powerful rush of mixed tenderness and desire. He wanted to take her, to strip his shirt from her and bare her breasts so he could touch them. Cal ached to put her on her back and take her, but he yearned to protect her, to treat her with care and gentleness.
She evoked emotions he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with. As Cal deepened the kiss, he added a little tongue and he rubbed her back with one hand, slow and easy. Her hair brushed against his skin and sent electric prickles down his spine. His cock responded to her proximity by growing hard, pressing against his pants with such a boner he backed off the kiss so he wouldn’t offend or frighten her away.
Post-kiss, they stared at each other for a long moment, then she grinned. “I’m glad you liked it so much,” she told him.
“I did. Say, do you like a good wine?”
Raine nodded. “I like a sweet red or a good Moscato, yes.”
“Then how’s about I go down the block, buy a bottle, and we share it?”
“I’d like that a lot.”
He reached for a windbreaker hanging on a hook near the door. “Okay, then. I’ll be right back, doll.”
“I’ll clean up the kitchen while you’re gone and see if my blouse is dry then.”
Callahan grabbed his wallet and keys, then headed to the elevator. Once he reached the street, he had to resist breaking into an exuberant run or dancing his way down the sidewalk. The rain had stopped, and above the narrow canyon between the buildings, the clouds were gone. The temperature had dropped, too. He skirted a few puddles as he ducked into the nearest shop, chose a bottle of pink Moscato wine, then headed back to his building.
His spirits were high, buoyed up by the events of the day and the woman named Raine. When he’d left that morning, his mood had been mundane, neither good nor bad. That much had been a victory over the dark ghosts of tragedy and grief that dogged him, but now life sparkled with possibilities and the chance for something new, something bright.
Hope came hard to him, but for the first time in so long Callahan tasted and savored it, sweeter than the wine he carried.
He had no idea how the night would end or what tomorrow might bring, but for once he wanted to find out.
Chapter Four
Raine touched her tingling lips with wonder after Callahan walked out the door. She’d never been kissed with such fervor or feeling. Hard to believe I just met him this morning, she thought. His home surrounded her like a comfortable cocoon, and she liked the feeling. Raine washed the dishes with speed, wiped down the stove, table, and counters, then wandered into the other room. She picked up the blanket she’d tossed over Callahan and folded it, then settled onto the couch to wait.
Alone, she indulged in a little nosiness. She made note of the two posters on the wall, one of the Broadway musical, Newsies, and the other was the cover of Billy Joel’s early album, 52nd Street. Raine thought her parents had it in their extensive record collection and started humming one of the tunes. Both fit Cal and his hometown of New York.
His uniforms hung in the small closet next to the bathroom, and she suspected that a locked box held his service weapon and ammunition. She brushed her fingers over the sleeve of one shirt, marveling at the idea that her Cal spent his days working to protect and serve. My Cal? When did he get to be that? Raine wondered, but she didn’t even try to dispute it. In her heart, he was.
Without shame, Raine slid open the dresser drawers, one at a time. The first two held clothing, T-shirts, underwear, socks, and some sweats. In the bottom one, she found a stack of photographs and flipped through them. A boy stood in front of a huge apartment building, and she recognized Cal by his sideways grin. A teenager behind him rested one hand on the young kid’s shoulder. There were candid shots of Callahan with a birthday cake, another of an older woman she guessed must be his grandmother, two women alike enough to be twins, and a few school pictures. Raine smiled at the old images and put them back where she’d found them.
She skipped the bathroom, having already noted the standard contents when she changed out of her wet clothing. In the kitchen, she rifled through the stack of bills and letters on the table. A monthly statement from ConEd, a
sale circular, his most recent paycheck stub, and a handwritten letter with a Brooklyn return address—none pique her interest. Raine paused at the bottom bill in the stack, one from Mount Sinai Roosevelt Hospital. She’d been by the place and noted it, but wondered why Cal had been billed. He appeared to be healthy, but a peek at the bill revealed a large sum he’d been paying for quite awhile. Her fingers started to unfold it, but she heard his key turn in the lock so she put it back and stacked the mail where it had been. A brief twinge of guilt for snooping vanished when Callahan entered.
He brought a swirl of cooler air with him, and the fresh scent cut through the lingering aroma of their meal. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and he grinned as he flourished a bottle of wine. “I’m back! Can you grab it and put in the fridge to chill?”
Raine took it from his hands. “Sure, but it feels cool now.”
“It’s turned a lot colder,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Is your hair dry yet?”
She fingered it. “Yes, I think so.”
“I want to show you something, then, so c’mon.”
Her fantasy of a quiet evening spent drinking wine and maybe making out might not come true. “Where are we going?”
“Up, doll, up to the roof so you can see the view.”
****
High places bothered Raine. She had forced herself to deal with them, but if she looked down, panic struck hard with the powerful force of a rattlesnake. For a moment she considered trying to brave it out, but then she caved. “I’m not very good with heights.”
Callahan sounded surprised. “You scared of being up high?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”
He cupped the curve of her cheek with one big hand. “Don’t be. We don’t have to go up. I just thought you’d like to see the city at night. It’s one helluva view, and there’s a four foot high wall around the edge. You won’t fall. Even if you could, I wouldn’t let you. Wanna give it a try?”
Callahan's Fate Page 3
